Comet
by katyastark
Summary: At 14, Midoriya Izuku moves away and 3 years go by before Bakugo Katsuki sees him again. And then 2 more years pass, then another, and so on with only the occasional glimpse of each other. Somewhere along the way, Bakugo starts to look forward to seeing Deku. Like a comet, he fills up Katsuki's sky with light and life. But comets only come by every once in a while.
1. Space Cadet

**YEAR 2, SEPTEMBER**

Izuku was sweating. Like, advanced sweating. Sweating so much that he regretted making his hero costume a one piece jumpsuit because he knew he would just be stewing in stress sweat the second he changed and the exam started and there was nothing he could do about it. Shindo noticed, but he was thankfully silent through most of the bus ride.

It's not that Izuku didn't believe in himself. Izuku figured he had a relatively good chance of passing. Navigating the heroics course without a Quirk was exhausting work, and it was less fulfilling than he imagined when he was younger, but he would never stop. As grueling as his life was nowadays, he'd gained so much from Ketsubutsu Academy. He had friends, a support system, and a mentor who told him he didn't need a Quirk to be a hero.

"Midoriya," Shindo started, placing a light hand on his shoulder. Izuku jumped.

"Your hair's going to catch on fire if you think any harder."

Izuku gave a breathy, nervous chuckle as a response. His nerves had him feeling like he wasn't tethered to the earth. He was adrift somewhere between dimensions.

"You'll be fine. As long as we stick together and stay gunning for UA, we've got this."

Shindo was so self-assured. His easy confidence baffled someone like Izuku—someone who'd spent the majority of his life being beaten down and underestimated. Maybe that's why Izuku gravitated toward Shindo the second he worked his way into the hero course. Maybe subconsciously Izuku hoped some of that confidence would rub off on him.

"Right… UA…." Izuku said, still in a haze of nervous energy. As if taking the licensing exam wasn't stressful enough, he had to deal with the fact that for the first time in almost three years he would be in the same vicinity as Bakugo Katsuki. That never worked out well for Izuku. He hoped that there would be so much going on that they wouldn't actually see each other, but when had Izuku ever gotten lucky like that?

"Come on, Midoriya. Relax. You didn't work this hard to make it to the hero course to burn out when it counts."

This is why they were friends. Shindo had a way of getting in his head and grounding him, steadying him. The thought made him laugh because Shindo's Quirk was the exact opposite of steady ground .

"You're right. There's no reason to be this nervous. I've worked hard to get here and I deserve my spot." Izuku had to remind himself of this often. It was a mantra of sorts. He would keep saying it until he believed it one-hundred percent.

"You'd think someone who's literally making history wouldn't need to be reminded of how great they are," Shindo said, playfully punching him in the arm. Izuku reddened. It was true that he was the first Quirkless person in history to be accepted to Ketsubutsu Academy, and the first Quirkless person in history to be in any heroics course in Japan.

Izuku hated that at first. He'd hoped that the novelty of his Quirklessness would wear off by the time he graduated and made it to the pros, but it didn't seem likely. Around the time they started choosing their hero names, Shindo told him he should just own it; to go as far as making it his hero name and building an entire brand around it, to let all those reporters sniffing around him finally interview him. Izuku couldn't think of a better name, so he went with it. He passed on the reporters and the branding, but his hero name was, in fact, Quirkless. Every time he started regretting it he reminded himself that he could be an inspiration to other Quirkless kids out there, or even kids without physical Quirks.

Izuku was brought back to this plane of existence when Shindo tugged on an errant curl.

"Eh?"

"Look alive, space cadet. We're here." Shindo offered him a smile. It was a slight balm to his frayed nerves, but it could only do so much.

Izuku couldn't catch a break. The second he stepped off the bus, his uniform rumpled from the long the bus ride, he spotted Kacchan—Bakugo? It hardly seemed right to keep calling him such a sweet nickname. Izuku was horrified by the feminine screech that left his mouth before he busied himself by hiding behind Shindo's tall frame.

"Midoriya?" Shindo asked, attempting to turn to look at him. Izuku wouldn't let him, lest he be exposed. Izuku was nervous enough without having to deal with a reunion. Speaking of reunions, Ms. Joke seemed to know Bakugo's instructor personally. Everyone followed her automatically toward the UA students. Izuku was sure he wasn't breathing. His chest felt like it was pinching tighter every step closer. It couldn't get much worse. If he could just stay discreet behind Shindo everything would be—

Shindo was moving, putting on his innocent, disarming act. Izuku was exposed to the whole world and Shindo was holding Bakugo's hands. Izuku said a silent prayer for his friend—he didn't know what he was doing was so dangerous. And yet, Bakugo wasn't exploding. He was hardly even yelling. Well, he was hardly yelling until he saw Izuku.

" DEKU? "

Another squeak. Why couldn't he stop squeaking? He was a hero, damn it. Stop being a coward.

"Uh, hey, Bakugo." Izuku waved weakly, avoiding eye contact. He had to make a conscious effort not to call him Kacchan.

"The hell are you doing here, nerd? Carrying the bags?" Kacchan asked, leaning threateningly into Izuku's personal bubble. Izuku was a hero who could defend himself, and yet, all his training left him in that moment. He felt suffocated and weak under that familiar, piercing gaze. Faintly, Izuku registered one of Kacchan's classmates chastising him, "Hey, man, don't be so rude!"

Fat lot of good that would do for Izuku.

"N-no, I—" Izuku hadn't stuttered in almost two years. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt himself being pulled back to a time when everything—or was it really just one thing?—scared him. Izuku instinctively stepped back, only to bump into Nakagame. She held his shoulders to steady him, but it really felt like she was trapping him.

"You okay, Midoriya?"

Before Izuku could come up with anything to say, Bakugo's homeroom teacher— Eraserhead! —silenced them all and told his students to go change. His voices was startlingly authoritative, so the Ketsubutsu students listened to him as well. Izuku was slow to follow, letting himself fall behind. He wanted as much space between him and Bakugo as possible.

Shindo found his way to Izuku's side, studying him.

"That's him. Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Izuku said, breathy and small.

Izuku told Shindo once about Bakugo and all the things he went through in middle school before he moved away. It was directly after he'd had a panic attack in front of the entire class after sparring with an upperclassman that had a heat convection Quirk. It was nothing like Bakugo's explosions, but it burned the same, and it send Izuku into a spiral of frenzied anger and all-consuming panic. He hardly remembered what he did to that student, but he received a detention for "unsportsmanlike overkill" and had to be bodily dragged out of the sparring ring.

He hadn't wanted to tell him at first, but once he started talking all the words poured out of him like opening flood gates. His therapist was proud of him for opening up to someone, and assured him that being transparent with the people that cared about him could be more healing than all the therapy in the world. He supposed she was right. Not counting this day, Izuku was the happiest and healthiest he'd been in a long time, and his burn-related PTSD was under control for the most part.

"There are thousands of students here. He'll be easy to avoid."

Shindo had a knack for knowing when not to delve deeper. He could always sense when Izuku was feeling cagey. Shindo always comforted him by keeping everything surface level.

"True. I just want to pass this test and go home."

"That's exactly what we'll do," Shindo said, his eyebrows pinching together with fierce determination.

The exam wasn't easy, not by a long shot, but Izuku took comfort in the fact that his classmates were by his side and Bakugo split off from an otherwise united group of UA students. Once Shindo used his Quirk to cause some chaos and split people up, they were able to pick off some students from the lesser known hero schools. They came up with a routine: Shindo would shake the earth beneath them and Izuku would use his throwing knives—well, not knives. They wouldn't let him use knives, so the KB support students made him blunted projectiles that looked and worked the same, but they were electrified, much like a taser. He'd been able to zap a few unbalanced opponents and they were able to get their points.

During the rescue portion, Izuku and Shindo dedicated his time to triage. Shindo's Quirk wasn't suited for rescue, and Izuku was a bit of a whiz kid with first aid. They were interrupted by a sudden burst of hot air. Izuku turned to Shindo, to tell him they should move the civilians, but Shindo was blown back by a gust of wind. He was on his own. He looked to the part of the arena that was covered in melting ice and roaring flames. Inasa and Todoroki. They seemed to no longer be fighting Gang Orca—they were fighting each other.

"What are they doing!"

Izuku didn't know much about Todoroki or Inasa, but they seemed level headed enough to not be so stupid. The fire caught his eye and the heat stung his eyes and needled at his fight or flight response. Fire burns.

Izuku shook his head, pushing the fire and his peers from his thoughts. He turned, ready to get back to the injured civilians, but instead he slams into Bakugo's back. He sneered.

"Back off, Deku. Don't want your shitty Quirklessness to rub off on me. I can't believe you made that stupid shit your hero name."

"Fuck off, Bakugo." The words slipped out, unbidden under his breath. Bakugo tensed and whirled on him. "What did you say to me, shitrag?"

Somehow, Izuku found the courage to stand up to his long time tormentor. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush fueling him. Maybe it was all the fire at his back. It was definitely the worst time to find his voice.

"I said fuck off." He punctuated every word with deliberate slowness, so Bakugo could hear every syllable, the injured civilians completely forgotten.

"Fuck you, Deku! Who the hell do you think you are?"

He shoved Izuku, his palms lightly smoking in his gloves. Izuku remained firm, hardly losing balance. He even managed to get his own shove in, and it felt great. Finally, after so many years, he was able to shove Bakugo back. It should be embarrassing that two heroes in training with over a year of combat experience resorted to shoving each other like they were children in the schoolyard.

"Don't call me that!"

"What should I call you, huh? Worthless? Tag along? Who's coattails are you gonna grab onto now that I'm not around, shitty Deku ?"

"Riding your coattails? Is that what you call saving your life?"

They were screaming at each other, bumping chests and shoving each other only to come back chest to chest every time. Izuku was incensed—he'd gone so long without being Deku, without hearing that horrible nickname. He pulled his arm back to punch Bakugo in his angular jaw. It was retribution long overdue, but before he could let his fist fly, Shindo appeared.

"Midoriya! Get yourself together."

Shindo had a death grip on his shoulders, holding him back. He was trying to look at Shindo but nothing would come into focus for more than a few seconds, his eyes shifting and darting haphazardly. Over Shindo's shoulder he saw two of Bakugo's classmates holding him back. His vision was spotty as he slowly lost himself to the swirling rage and panic clogging up his senses. He'd gone so long without feeling like that. If he had any sense he'd be ashamed. Why did he let Bakugo make him crazy?

Shindo could see the change in his eyes, and if he could see it, so could the mock civilians. In some small part of Izuku's brain he knew that having a panic attack directly after getting in a fight with another hero would result in an automatic fail. Had he already failed? He had too much to lose to fail. How could he let this happen?

Shindo grabbed his face, his eyes urging him to breathe and focus.

"He's not worth this, Midoriya. I promise. You still have time to pass."


	2. Alien Encounters

**JULY, YEAR 3**

Izuku passed through the large gates of UA not really knowing what to expect from the day. For as great a mentor as Ms. Joke was, she was terrible with fine details. All she said when she excitedly approached him about a possible job opportunity was that it would be informal and not to stress about it too much.

"Eraser is excited to meet you! It'll be like an informal get-to-know you. He wants to help place you with a good agency."

"Oh, that's nice of him."

Joke laughed. His mentor's laugh was one of the finer things in Izuku's life. She laughed loudly and often and it was always unapologetically her. Izuku wished he could let go like that.

"He likes to pretend he's a hardass, but he's got a soft spot for hard workers. I put in a good word for you, so you better tell him how great I am."

"I will," Izuku said, lightly smiling at his teacher's weird crush.

"And tell him I'm available Friday night!"

"Uh," Izuku stammered. Joke laughed again, clutching her gut.

"I'm only joking! Well, not really, but that would be inappropriate. Hilarious, but inappropriate."

"Right," Izuku said, not really knowing how to pull the conversation back to more pertinent information.

Luckily he had a letter and a map of the campus. It was written by Eraserhead himself, Aizawa Shota. It was short and concise with about as much detail as his conversation with Joke. It said to come in comfortable clothes and to meet in Training Gym 3 on the west side of the campus. He walked swiftly along the highlighted route on his map, his eyes shifting from the map to the surrounding buildings and courtyards. He was at his dream school. Ketsubutsu was something akin to his home now, but UA would always be the unattainable dream he longed for.

Sometimes he wondered if he would've made it to the hero course at the "plus ultra" prestigious school. He had more confidence in his abilities as a hero than he did a year ago, but he had a hard time believing he would be recognized in a school of elites. Ketsubutsu was a high ranking hero school, but it hardly had the reputation for excellence that UA and Shiketsu maintained.

"You're on time. Good."

The second the door of the gym shut behind him, Izuku came face to face with one of his most inspiring heroes. Aizawa Shota wasn't much to look at when his hair wasn't standing on end and his capture weapon wasn't whipping around his face, but he had an undeniable presence about him that immediately turned Izuku into a puddle of nerves.

"Eraserhead!" Izuku wanted to slap himself. What kind of eloquent greeting was that? So much for good first impressions.

"You can call me Mr. Aizawa. I'm a teacher first and foremost on UA grounds," Aizawa said, his no bullshit manner ever present. Izuku nodded.

"Midoriya Izuku, better known as Quirkless. I remember you from the licensing exam."

"Oh," Izuku said, the wind fully going out of his sails for good. His first impression was already tarnished. The provisional licensing exam would go down in his personal history as one of Izuku's lowest points in his career. He proved himself to be unprofessional, immature, and absolutely feral in the presence of Bakugo Katsuki. He was a serious liability on that field, and he barely passed the exam with 58 points—he would never admit out loud that he took a lot of pride in beating Bakugo's score of 51. He could only imagine the fallout of such a massive hit to Bakugo's ego. If not for the swelling sense of shame pooling in his stomach, he might've laughed. When it was clear Izuku had nothing to say, Eraserhead continued.

"You were no standout but the fact that you're Quirkless and you managed to pass is inherently impressive. And even I can appreciate anyone ballsy enough to go toe to toe with my most volatile student—even if it was a spectacular waste of time and talent."

"Thanks?" Izuku wasn't sure what to say to such a backhanded compliment. Aizawa continued without much regard for what he said anyway.

"I've been keeping tabs on your progress since. Joke tells me you're a fast learner and a dedicated worker, but there's only so much you can glean from your professors who can rely on physical Quirks. That's why you're here. Show me what you got, kid."

Suddenly, Aizawa was in a fighting stance, his capture weapon coming to life around his neck. His goggles were visible around his neck, but Izuku figured Eraserhead wouldn't put them on since he had no Quirks to cancel in this fight.

So cool! Izuku tried to not fanboy too hard, he really did, but he attributed so much of his fighting style to Eraserhead it was hard not to. Izuku spent so much time watching the few Eraserhead videos he could find online to try to understand his fighting style, but he was so different in every video the only conclusion Izuku drew from it was to be unpredictable. His spar with Eraserhead was just that. Eraserhead was quick and nimble up close, and deadly precise from afar with his capture weapon. His best bet was to get close, but he was feeling naked without his support weapons.

Right around the time he got his first hit on Eraserhead—a roundhouse kick to the gut—and he countered by wrapping his capture weapon around his outstretched leg and flinging him into the air—he was sorely wishing Joke had the presence of mind to tell him to bring his gear.

Informal get-to-know you, my ass, Izuku thought as he did his best to reorient himself in the air to counter the next attack.

In the end, Eraserhead won, but Izuku thought he put up an admirable fight even without his bo staff. Time would only tell if Aizawa was impressed. Time, and a lot of reading between the lines. Aizawa didn't seem like the type to give outright praise.

"Not bad." Aizawa, panting from exertion, retracted his capture weapon to hang lifelessly around his neck again. Izuku smiled, absolutely star struck and honored.

"You don't use any support items?" Aizawa asked, disapproval clear in his voice.

"I do. I wasn't expecting to need my utility belt. Ms. Joke told me I was having 'an informal meeting' with one of her connections with an opportunity for me."

Aizawa rolled his eyes at Joke's antics, but let it slide in favor of asking about Izuku's support gear.

"For close combat, my go-to is usually a bo staff, but I've trained with other weapons. I'm pretty deadly with throwing knives, but KB has a policy about training with deadly weapons, so the support course made me these blunted projectiles that stick on and electrocute on contact. It's basically a taser, which I also carry. And my bo staff is electrified on one end. The support course likes to make a lot of stuff for me to try out but those are my staples."

Aizawa nodded, clearly a man of few words. Just then, the door opened and a tall figure sauntered into the room. He was dressed almost exactly like Aizawa, except where Aizawa wore black, this man wore purple. He also wore an intricate mask that covered the lower half of his face.

"Right on time. Midoriya Izuku this is Shinso Hitoshi."

Both of them bowed to each other, but Shinso didn't speak.

"I remember you from all your sports festivals! I was rooting for you. I damn near fainted when you came in fifth this year, I was so excited," Izuku said, calling on his extensive knowledge of Shinso's Quirk. He recalled that, just like Izuku, Shinso started in General Studies as well, and rose to the hero course through his impressive display during his first sports festival as the only General student to place in the top 10. Shinso pulled the mask lower down on his face, so Izuku could see his smirk, "Thanks, man. Aizawa tells me you're a lot like us. Can't depend on a Quirk, so you found other ways to be a badass. I look forward to working with you."

Izuku raised an eyebrow and looked to Aizawa for clarification. Aizawa sighed, "I haven't gotten to that part yet."

"Basically I want to restructure Heroics courses to include kids with non-physical Quirks. The idea is to implement it at UA first, and if all goes well the rest of the country will follow," Aizawa said once they'd all gone to his office after their spar.

"UA has a lot of sway when it comes to hero training, but we'd have to present a proposal to the Ministry of Education. I refuse to not have the proposal go through on the first run, so it will be heavily researched and you two will learn everything you can about the heroics industry and heroics education." Again, Aizawa took the no bullshit approach when debriefing them on the catch.

"So while you work with your agencies, you'll also be working with me on the side. From the second you graduate, you'll start your research. We will meet once a month to share our findings and craft a suitable proposal."

Shinso opened his mouth to speak and Aizawa's eyes flashed red—clearly a warning to cease and desist.

"If I hear either one of you complain about extra work on top of being heroes, you're out on the spot."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Shinso said, a little surly and sarcastic.

"You won't hear me complaining. I'm in," Izuku said fervently. It would be hard balancing what was basically two jobs at once, but this was the chance of a lifetime. Izuku was no stranger to hard work, and he couldn't help but think this was the ultimate payoff.

"Good. This packet highlights everything we've discussed and has the logins for Heroics databases with all the sources we'll need to sift through. Once you get your names out there as respectable heroes and we get the go-ahead to implement our program, you'll make an official statement of intent to join UA's staff, and you'll start working toward your Heroics teaching credentials. Go over everything in that packet this weekend and email me if you have questions or comments."

Izuku nodded, feeling like Aizawa handed him the golden ticket instead of a sheaf of papers.

"How long do you think it would be before an actual class starts? What timeframe should we be shooting for?" Izuku was a fan of clear goals, and a whiz kid when it came to analytics.

"I'm not sure. A proposal could be done within the year, but I don't want to rush. You and Shinso need to make a name for yourselves more than anything, and that can't really be rushed either. I guess we'll know when the time comes."

That made sense. No one would take any kind of reforms seriously if it was helmed by two no-name heroes. Izuku never felt so motivated to make himself known.

"Thank you, Mr. Aizawa. This is… amazing. This will change everything."

Shinso gave a tired smile at his gushing praise, but the look in his eye told him that he felt the same wash of gratitude and lighthearted kinship Izuku was feeling. There weren't many people in the world who could empathize with Izuku's plight, his bone deep need to prove himself a hero despite his Quirklessness. Even though Aizawa and Shinso had Quirks, they clearly had to fight just as hard to be recognized. Izuku wouldn't let them down. He refused to let a thousand potential heroes down because he was nervous about a little paperwork and a heavy workload.

Izuku left the UA campus feeling as if he'd spent the last few hours asleep and dreaming. If not for the fresh bruises forming on his forearms from sparring with Aizawa, he might've believed it really was a dream.

A professor at UA. Changing the heroics course.

In a way, it was everything Izuku ever wanted. Up until his last year of middle school, UA was the only school he wanted to attend. He wanted to be recognized by the top notch heroics program, to be part of its history. Now, he was and could be. And to do it in the name of kids like Izuku and Shinso, kids who had to fight naysayers for any kind of success? It was too perfect. Nothing could bring him down from his high.

His phone rang. Mom flashed across the screen over a recent photo of the two of them. He picked up without hesitation, ready to gush over his good news.

"Mom!"

"Hi, Izuku. You sound excited."

"I am! I—"

"You're going to dinner at the Bakugo's house tomorrow," she said, her words speedily blurring together like she was throwing him a live grenade and was preparing to run.

"Eh? What?" So much for nothing bringing him down.

"I let slip to Mitsuki that you're in town and she insisted on having you over. You know how she can be."

"Loud? Overbearing?" Izuku instantly regretted saying that aloud. It was true that Mrs. Bakugo was loud, abrasive, and pushy, but she was always kind to Izuku. She used to pinch his cheeks and gush about how lucky her son was to have a friend like him. The fact that she continued to do this long after her son started bullying Izuku led him to believe that she knew nothing about what her son got up to at school.

"Midoriya Izuku! Respect your elders."

"Sorry, mom. I didn't mean it."

"You're awfully cheeky now that you're a big bad hero. How did your interview go?"

"I wouldn't call it an interview, exactly, but I got a job offer. A really big one." Izuku chuckled at the enormity of it all. The offer didn't come without conditions, and it would definitely be a delayed payoff, but they were reasonable.

"I'm proud of you, honey. You deserve every good thing coming your way."

"Thanks, mom. Are you sure I can't get out of dinner? I was having a really good day."

"Izuku," she warned.

"Fine. But I won't be happy about it!" Izuku said, caving at the first sign of his mother's disappointment. He was incapable of being a selfish teenager when it came to her.

"They love you like a second son. They'll be excited to hear about the job offer."

"I know. I'll tell them you said hello." Izuku tried not to sigh into the phone. He wasn't worried about the Bakugo's specifically. Mitsuki was a little scary at times and Izuku always felt drained after being around her, but she wasn't mean. Masaru was a very level headed, gentle man who was always very forthcoming about how proud he was of the "upstanding young man" he was becoming. His parents were lovely people. Their son was not.

Izuku sighed and decided that he'd call Shindo while his phone was still in his hand. It rang twice before Shindo's pleasant voice trilled across the phone lines.

"Midoriya! I just got out of my interview."

"How'd it go? Which agency was it this time?"

Izuku was only a little jealous of Shindo's success with nearly all his interviews. Even the ones that surely wouldn't pan out only had good things to say about his future. Izuku wasn't as lucky. He was fighting the stigma of Quirklessness at every turn. Agencies either wanted him for the novelty of it, or rejected him on the spot because he was considered a liability. The agencies hardly saw him as a person, let alone a prospective hero.

"Mount Lady's agency. I heard she was moving her headquarters out of Mustafu to a less populated area this year. She seemed like a good fit from all the structural damage payments she's had to make over the years."

"Yeah, who better to teach you how to not ruin cities with your Quirk than someone like her?"

"That's what I said! In the end, I think the idea of racking up more property damage complaints turned her off. But she gave me a referral so it wasn't a total wash."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find your placement soon. Sounds like you've been killing the interviews," Izuku said, only slightly able to hide the jealousy in his tone.

"How'd your thing go?"

"Really good, actually. Eraserhead put a good word in for me with some underground agencies too. Hopefully it'll help."

"You know, when I told you to rock the whole Quirkless schtick, I never thought it'd give you so much grief. I can't believe so many agencies refuse to see how great you are."

Izuku felt his heart warm at the praise. Shindo was always doing that. Always earnestly inflating his ego.

"Well, I've got bigger fish to fry now. My mom's sending me to the Bakugo's tomorrow."

"And you're not faking your death to get out of it?"

"Maybe not my death, but I'm kind of hoping for a major villain attack to go down so I can at least break an arm and spend the night in the hospital."

Shindo laughed, but quickly turned serious.

"If it gets to be too much, call me. You shouldn't have to deal with this shit on your week off."

Izuku smiled, grateful to have someone in his corner.

"Make sure you're home for dinner tomorrow, brat. We've got a guest coming."

The second Katsuki answered his mother's phone call, he instantly remembered why he usually lets it go to voicemail and pretends not to listen to it.

"Why the hell does it matter if I'm at your idiotic schmooze fest?"

Katsuki was no stranger to business dinners. His parents were always entertaining and building connections. Katsuki was a surly bystander at the dinner table from the tender age of six. In recent years, he was more than happy to get away from them as a result of living in the UA dorms. He secretly thought his parents were happy to have him absent as well.

"It's not business, you little shit. Izuku is in town for his interviews and we haven't seen him in ages."

Katsuki's stomach twists with something like the fiery anger of a thousand hells as he remembered the shit Deku pulled at the licensing exam. The look of pure rage on Deku's face was startling to see, and Katsuki didn't think he'd ever forget it. He was pissed off and mortified that he was one point away from failing the exam completely because of stupid Deku's bullshit.

He started to tell his mom to fuck off when he realized that could be considered hiding from another encounter with the green-haired menace. He wasn't afraid of Deku and he refused to allow anyone to think that. Katsuki grunted his assent.

"Do something nice for him, Katsuki. You used to be such good friends. It'd be nice to have him back here."

Katsuki didn't know why his mom had such a soft spot for the Midoriya family. He would never understand the relationship between his mom and Auntie Inko. They were polar opposites. Midoriya Inko was soft, wrinkled smiles and motherly attentiveness and his mother was… not. He hadn't seen much of Auntie once they moved away but every now and then she'd come to visit. It was astounding to see his mother cowed by her presence, softened by her words. She was almost bearable when Auntie was around. He could always tell when his mom had a particularly long phone conversation with her because she smiled and sang her way through cooking dinner. It was the closest she ever got to pleasant.

Katsuki never had a friend like that. He was very aware that him and his mother were incredibly similar. They were both hot headed and prone to angry outbursts. They both had trouble making friends. He'd finally given in and admitted that Kirishima and his gaggle of idiots were his friends, but they never had that kind of power over him.

There wasn't a person alive who could soften Bakugo Katsuki. That was a fact.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll get him an All Might autograph or something."

If Katsuki remembered anything about Deku it was his undying devotion to All Might. It might be fun to rub the fact that Katsuki knew him on a personal level in his face. Katsuki smirked at the idea. He could do something nice for his mom and still annoy Deku. It was a win for everyone.

"All Might. Write something cheesy and make it out to Quirkless," Katsuki said, deciding to forgo a greeting.

"You're friends with Quirkless?" All Might said. His hollow eyes seemed to sink and darken further. Katsuki sneered.

"No," he said and gave him a withering look that made it clear he refused to elaborate.

"Oh. Well, I hope he's doing well." All Might sounded strained and conflicted and Katsuki didn't want to touch any of those emotions with a ten foot pole. He may not be as outwardly volatile as he was a year ago, but he still wasn't good with feelings. He was mentally preparing himself for a night of awkward dinner chat with Deku and his parents—he didn't have enough energy to spend on All Might's forlorn expression.

All Might wrote out a quick note and signed his larger than life signature below it.

_Quirkless, keep up the good work. PLUS ULTRA! -All Might_

"Great. Later, All Might."

"You're welcome, young Bakugo."

Katsuki halted in the doorway of All Might's office and turned to the man that inspired him to become a hero. He was old and withered and Quirkless now, but his voice still remained the same. It was still arresting to be in his presence when he spoke.

"Thanks," Katsuki said, begrudgingly, before disappearing through the door.

Katsuki found himself standing in the doorway of his family living room when his parents welcomed Deku like he was the son they never had. Katsuki's scowl deepened at the obvious display of affection. He eyed Deku, looking for any sign of the bastard that had the gall to challenge him the last time they met. He found nothing, mostly because Deku refused to meet his eyes. He was very focused on his parents, smiling like it hadn't been almost five years since they saw each other. His mom still pinched Deku's cheeks even though they were hardly chubby enough to grab onto anymore. Deku filled out in hero training. His jaw was harder and he was big enough to really fill up the doorway when he stepped through the threshold. He'd never be taller than Katsuki though, and he had to smirk at that.

"Katsuki, don't be rude," his dad murmured when he noticed he was still keeping his distance. Did he expect him to be kind? To go and hug the guy he hadn't spared a single thought on since middle school?

"Deku," Katsuki muttered. Katsuki was never good with words, but talking to Deku was always the hardest. It only seemed to get worse with time and distance. At least in middle school Katsuki knew what to say, how to push Deku's buttons, how to keep him in his place. If he learned anything from their fight a year ago it was that Deku would keep him on his toes tonight. He felt a little out of his depth.

"Hey." Deku nodded, his eyes sliding over Katsuki's, but never quite landing. His eyes were hard and guarded, something he hadn't seen when he was hugging his mom or clasping hands with his dad. His chilly reunion with his once best friend was only the beginning.

Deku wouldn't look at him and he didn't know how to feel about it. Well, he felt angry, but it didn't feel as good as it usually did. If he wasn't looking at his parents his eyes were trained with intensity on his plate. His mom made spicy katsudon and even though he never remembered Deku liking spicy food, Deku seemed to focus on it with a disproportionate intensity.

Katsuki didn't like to be ignored. For better or worse he was used to being the center of attention and no matter how much he disliked Deku he was peeved by his unwillingness to be attentive.

"So, tell us about school. How's Ketsubutsu treating you?" His dad broke the awkward silence with an innocuous question.

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. He knew Ketsubutsu wasn't on par with UA by any means, but they must've really been slipping in the last few years if Deku was the best they could do in the hero course.

"Not much to tell, really. I like it. I've made some friends and I've learned a lot." Deku gave a forced smile and shoved some food in his mouth to avoid being specific. Katsuki couldn't have that.

"What's your rank?" Katsuki narrowed his eyes when they met Deku's. He had that same hard exterior, like he had to armor himself just to look at Katsuki.

"Eighth. Out of twenty," Deku said, his jaw clenching and shifting. He couldn't see his hands under the table but he'd be surprised if they weren't in fists. Katsuki smirked.

"I'm part of UA's Big Three."

Deku nodded evenly. Katsuki had enough experience trying to mitigate his own anger to know Deku was furious. It was odd to see that expression on his face. He'd only ever seen it once before, maybe twice. He wouldn't count the first time because that time his face was more upset than angry. It was the last day he saw Deku before he moved away.

"That doesn't surprise me," he says. It's honest enough, but the bite in his voice let Katsuki know he only begrudgingly admitted it.

As if the tension in the room was actually suffocating her, his mom coughed and cleared her throat.

"We're all really proud of you, Izuku. Tell us about this job interview you had today."

Izuku smiled at her and it seemed genuine. For a moment he thought of Deku's stupid friend. The one with the earthquake Quirk that pretended to be pleasant and kind and naive. He wondered if Deku was just better at pretending to be kind than his friend. He was kind once, but he'd changed. Katsuki wondered if he was the only one who saw the cracks in his foundation.

"I wouldn't call it an interview, but it's a big opportunity. I met with Eraserhead. He wants to help hook me up with some good agencies."

"Do you think you'll be moving back to Musutafu? I miss your mom. It would be great if she had a reason to come here more often."

Izuku smiled at the mention of his mom. He shrugged.

"Maybe someday, but I don't think it's best for me to be in a huge city at the start of my career. Big agencies don't want to take a risk on me."

"No shit. You're gonna get yourself killed."

As if any big name agency would want him dying on their watch. He was baffled Aizawa would attach his name to such a liability.

His father gave him a warning look and kicked him under the table.

"That's what some people seem to think." Deku stuffed more food in his mouth again, determined not to speak to or look at Katsuki. He rankled at that.

"So, Izuku, did you find yourself a girlfriend?" His dad, ever the peacemaker, jumped in.

Deku choked on a piece of pork. It took a full minute for him to compose himself.

"Ah, you know me. I've never been much of a ladies man."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. This dinner was the fucking worst and it couldn't be done fast enough.

Deku, like the good little ass kisser he always was, offered to help with the dishes after dinner, but of course his mother refused.

"No, no! You and Katsuki go catch up."

Deku fixed Katsuki a withering look like he'd rather die than catch up with Katsuki. The feeling was mutual. He quickly looked away when their eyes met, but Katsuki wouldn't shy away from being caught the way he did. He didn't care.

"Right. Thank you for dinner, Auntie."

"Do you have a place to stay tonight? We could put a futon down for you. Just like old times," his mom said, looking grossly fond of Deku.

"Ah, no. That's okay. I'm in some student housing until I head home tomorrow."

His mom nodded and gave him an unnecessary hug before sending them up the stairs where their own mutual hells waited.

Having Deku in his room after ten years was surreal to say the least. The eerie silence was unwelcome, but neither person seemed to know what to say. Deku silently moved around the room, his eyes roaming everywhere but Katsuki's faces.

"Hasn't changed much," Deku finally said, facing away from Katsuki.

"Yeah, well, I haven't actually lived here in three years."

Deku hummed and willingly looked at him for the first time.

"Bet you love that."

Katsuki thought he'd love being out of his parents house three years earlier than he planned to be, but shirking off his moody mother came at the price of gaining nineteen roommates. He got used to it but he truly used to hate the dorm system.

He was surprised that even after avoiding each other for so long Deku had a basic knowledge of the things he did and didn't like. He wondered if Deku still liked all the things he used to, and then he realized that he could hardly remember any of those things outside of heroes and katsudon and the color red.

"Uh, I have something for you. My mom made me do it so don't fucking thank me or anything," Katsuki said, doing his damndest to be flippant when he handed the signed poster over to Deku. He took his sweet time unrolling the poster and had the gall to laugh—scoff, more like—at it when he read All Might's words. He didn't waste any time letting it roll back up. He forcefully handed it back to Katsuki.

"What's so funny, nerd?"

"I've grown out of my All Might phase," Deku said, his face looking harder than he'd ever seen it. Harder than when his eyes slid coolly over Katsuki at dinner, or when he told Katsuki to fuck off with fire lighting up his eyes. This was different. It was cold and calculated indifference.

"Never seemed like a phase with you. It's part of who you are."

For the first time that night, Katsuki was genuine when he spoke. He couldn't guess why. Maybe it was the enclosed space or the slight shock of seeing Deku so pissed off that had him reeling.

"No offense, but you don't know who I am."

"Bullshit. We grew up together. I was your best friend."

What was his problem? Katsuki was being nice—as nice as he ever was, at least. He grew up with Deku. Did he really think they didn't know each other, at least on some level? Deku looked incredulous, and pissed off. It was a look he'd never seen on a young Deku's freckled, open, naive face. He'd seen it a lot tonight, but it was subdued and hidden for his parents' sake. It made him look older.

"Shindo is my best friend. The only one I've ever had."

"Hah? Did you bump your head and get stupider, Deku?"

"I got some perspective. You and I… We— Friends don't treat each other the way you treated me."

"Oh, please. You really think you'd be where you are now if I didn't toughen you up?"

Deku's large hands balled into fists. He could see white knuckles from clear across the room. The indignant rage in the set of his mouth and the wrinkle in his brow burrowed into Katsuki's soul. He'd never seen Deku like this. Like something was rotting him from the inside out.

"Don't you _ever—_" Deku said, his voice shaking with unbridled rage, moving quickly closer into Katsuki's personal space, his hands flexing and unflexing like he needed to punch something—"Ever try to take credit for where I am. I'm here because I didn't listen to _you_, or my mom, or fucking All Might. I'm going to be a hero because of me, you selfish prick."

Deku shoved Katsuki hard enough to disrupt his balance. In the seconds it took Katsuki to reorient himself, Deku was gone. His brain couldn't really compute the words coming out of Deku's mouth—he was so preoccupied with the idea of Deku cussing (again, but that's neither here nor there). Katsuki was incensed. He'd spent a lot of time in the past controlling the fire of anger in his gut, but no amount of breathing could've kept him from flying off the handle in this moment. He'd never been able to control himself around Deku and clearly today wasn't the day to start. He stomped down the stairs, huffing and roaring, "Deku!"

He could hear Deku's wheedling voice talking to his parents, "Thank you both for your hospitality, but I should be going."

"Don't be a stranger, Izuku. You're always welcome here." His mom pinched Izuku's cheeks again like she did when they were in preschool.

"Hug your mother for us." His dad gave Deku a firm handshake goodbye.

Katsuki just stood there, fuming. It pissed him off to see his parents mooning over Deku like nothing changed. Like they knew who he was. Did they? Was Katsuki the only one in the room who didn't know Deku?

"Katsuki, walk him out."

"That's okay—"

"Nonsense! Get going." She ushered Deku and Katsuki toward the door. Katsuki had learned over the years that it was easier to be quiet when it came to his mom. Arguing was futile. He'd been able to apply this lesson to other people lately, now that public image was such an important part of his life.

A sad, small part of Katsuki was bothered by not knowing Deku. No matter where they were now, he was still his first friend. And now they were nothing—or, if anything, probably more like enemies. He didn't want to argue with Deku. For the first time in his life he just wanted to listen because talking only made things worse. But Deku didn't want to talk.

"Oi, Deku," Katsuki said, trying for soft but only managing gruff. Deku paused his retreat, his shoulders slumped. He slowly looked back at Katsuki, waiting.

"I— I'm starting to realize," he said, trailing off. Realize what? That Deku wasn't useless? That Katsuki missed him on some level? That they were both different, and he might want to get to know him? He cleared his throat, trying again, "I'm starting to realize you're not as awful as you used to be."

That… that didn't come out right. Deku scoffed, crossing his arms across his wide chest. Deku's arms were bigger than his. He looked like he was trying to decide if Katsuki was worth a response. Apparently, he wasn't because Deku sighed and continued his retreat. Katsuki watched him go until he disappeared around a corner, no doubt heading for the train station. He didn't look back once. That bothered Katsuki.


	3. Comet

**5 YEARS LATER, DECEMBER**

Izuku woke up feeling like death. He probably came pretty close, considering the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment. He opened his eyes to find one obstructed by gauze. Most of the left side of his face and torso were covered in bandages, actually.

He vaguely remembered the villain who put him there, a bulky man with grey skin and a shock of yellow hair. Izuku hadn't known what kind of Quirk he was dealing with until it was too late. Jagged spikes flared up on the man's back, roughly the length of his arm. They looked almost icy, but Izuku became intimately acquainted with the spike as the man pulled on off his back and promptly slashed a deep cut down the length of his face, neck, and torso. It was diamond, or something like it—light, agile, unbreakable. It should've been deadly. He would have to thank his partner—she was probably the reason he was still alive.

"Hey, you're up. How are you feeling?"

"Stupid." Izuku's voice was a throaty croak. How long had he been out? How many days of work had he missed?

"I meant bodily," Shindo said, allowing himself a chuckle despite where they were.

"Nothing healers can't fix," Izuku said bitterly. He was starting to stew in his own self-hatred. He was thinking of the PR nightmare he no doubt had waiting for him. This was his first real close call on the job. He wondered if he even had a job waiting for him when he was up and running again. His agency was already on the fence about employing a Quirkless hero, now they had a reason to fear—a reason to terminate his contract.

"Even wrapped up in gauze, I know that look. Don't start," Shindo warned, placing a light hand on the portion of his hair that wasn't tamped down in bandages.

"This is going to cost me everything I've worked for. You know what everyone's going to say."

"Sakura told me it couldn't be prevented. She's pretty cut up too."

It must've been really bad if his partner, Sakura, couldn't keep the villain at bay.

"Sakura has a Quirk. A really strong one, at that. She's probably only hurt because she was trying to keep me alive." The monster inside Izuku, the one that hated every aspect of him, the one that called him Deku, and relentlessly tore him down, was elated. It loved having a reason to hate him, to poke and prod at all his sensitive spots.

"UA's been calling you," he said, trying for a subject change. He knew Izuku well enough to know that nothing could bring him out of beating himself up. It just had to pass.

"Probably to rescind the professorship offer," Izuku muttered. Part of him knew that wasn't true. He'd been meeting with Aizawa and Shinso on and off for nearly five years now, making plans and researching teaching techniques and poring over hero academics dissertations. They finally had enough to present to the academic board and Shinso and Izuku were about as famous as underground Pros could be without jeopardizing their safety. If not for this recent near-death experience, he would say it was the perfect time to jump head first into teaching.

Now, shifting focus to teaching would seem like he was running away, like being a Quirkless hero was too difficult and dangerous. Izuku had so many years left in him—he wanted to be the best hero he could be, given his circumstances.

"You know that's not true," Shindo said softly, his hand moving off his head and finding its way into Izuku's palm under all the IVs and wires. They weren't weird about physical contact—they'd been friends for so long, it just felt natural, but this felt different. For the first time, Izuku noticed how tense and tired Shindo looked, his jaw clenched and shoulders rigid. His handsome face seemed to sag and he had bags under his eyes.

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost a week now," he said and heaved a long sigh, some of the tension in his posture going out with the exhale, "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." Izuku did his best to squeeze Shindo's hand.

"Save it for your mom. She literally said _I'm gonna kill him once I know for sure he's not dying."_ Shindo's impression of his mom's voice was pretty accurate, and it made him laugh despite the fact that doing so made him hurt all over.

"Where is she?" Usually when he got hurt she was the first face he saw.

"Getting coffee. She's been sleeping here," Shindo said. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he'd spent some time sleeping there as well. Guilt twisted his stomach and Shindo saw it written on his face. He squeezed his hand and leaned close to meet Izuku's eye level.

"Don't feel guilty because people love you, dummy."

He was so close, and Izuku was feeling his mortality, and no one in his life made him feel as alive as Shindo did. So he pulled him closer, seeking a kind of comfort he had little experience with. Their lips met, chaste and closed-mouthed—mostly because Izuku couldn't open his mouth if he wanted to, he could feel stitches pulling at his cheek every time he spoke. Shindo didn't seem to mind once he got over the shock of being grabbed. He kissed him again and again and again until he heard his mom on the other side of the door.

**FEBRUARY**

It was another five years before Katsuki saw Izuku again, and it was seldom that he ever thought of his estranged childhood friend. Then there he was, on some late night hero news show where a panel of five fuckwits talk a lot about shit they don't know. He stared at the TV marveling at the difference 5 years made. Deku was even more muscular, his hair cropped close to his head, and he had a gnarly scar that started at his temple, spanned across his left cheek, cutting a slash on the corner of his mouth, and continuing down his neck into the collar of his uniform. Katsuki wondered how far it kept going. He wondered how he got it and how long it put him off hero work. He knew the idiot would get himself hurt. The banner on the screen read "Pro Hero Quirkless to Make Career Change."

Katsuki cranked the volume. The host—the only recurring panel member every week—was a smarmy looking guy with sparkling blue skin and fangs. He addressed his panel, which for once included four people Katsuki had actually heard of: a comedian who always wore a full face mask who only went by the name Sen, Present Mic, Ashido Mina (better know by her hero name, Pinky) and fucking Shindo Yo (Pro Hero Quake) This show didn't usually include so many heroes in one panel.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Of course, Ashido would go on this show. She was such a ham—most of her income came from guest TV appearances. Present Mic was no surprise either. He'd go on any show as long as he could promote his radio show. Shindo was probably in the middle of a popularity downturn, and since he's just barely a top 20 hero his management team set him up with this subpar gig. _Pathetic._

The host finished introducing the panel and dove into the news clips about Deku.

"Pro Hero Quirkless recently announced his plans to accept a teaching position at UA, the first step in a bigger plan to reform heroics education starting with the top tier hero school alongside underground heroes Eraserhead and Control Freak. All three heroes beat the odds when they transferred from General Studies into the Heroics courses. Quirkless has been very open about his desire to change not just the education system, but society as a whole when it comes to Quirk discrimination."

"As a UA teacher I fully support it. There are so many kids with potential that slip through the cracks because of the way Heroics is structured. I think this is the beginning of a new era," Present Mic said, entirely too tame and kind for the kind of show he was on. It was the host's job to stir the pot, so he said, "He's about to be the least experienced teacher at UA. He's only got, what, four or five years as a pro under his belt? He's never had his own agency and he's stayed out of the more densely populated cities. There's so many problems with throwing him into a teaching position this early in his career."

"And there's that recent injury. That sidelined him for almost a month."

"He's got so much passion though. Izu—Uh, _Quirkless_ works ten times harder than anyone else in the game to get where he is and it shows," Quake said.

Did he just call Deku by his first name?

"Did you just name drop?" Pinky asked, both hands braced on the table as she leaned into Shindo's personal space.

Shindo cleared his throat. "We went to Ketsubutsu together. We're good friends."

Pinky squealed the way she did when she sensed gossip. The video changed from the recent press conference to a series of photos with a bunch of high school kids. He didn't have the scar yet, but his hair was shorter. They all wore the same shirt. It said "be a hero: speak out against bullying." Katsuki rankled at the shameless popularity ploy. Katsuki hated that shit. He rolled his eyes and spoke into the void, "Can't win against a villain so you make your money posing for pictures, huh?"

Ashido—another fan of shameless popularity ploys—felt differently though. Big surprise.

"God, he's cute. How can someone so buff be that adorable?" Pinky said to no one in particular. The host ignored her in favor of continue with the news blurb.

"Quirkless is an advocate against bullying. Last year he started a youth outreach program in schools nationwide, the Alliance Against Bullying. It strives to connect students, teachers, and heroes with the resources and materials to properly identify and address bullying, and to provide counseling and safe spaces for people to share their experiences. He's been very honest about his own experiences with bullying."

"Who would bully that beefcake?" Pinky seemed on the verge of mutiny. She was milking this 30 minute show for all it was worth.

"Bullying," Katsuki said the word slowly, like he was testing the word. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Shindo made a face but stayed quiet. Sen cackled, "I'm sure he didn't fall out the womb looking like that. Bet he was a huge nerd."

Katsuki was nodding his assent with Sen's comment without realizing he was doing it.

Just as they said that the screen behind them changed to Deku's middle school photo. He looked like a deer in headlights. Katsuki would never admit it but this is what Deku would always look like to him. When he thought of Deku, he thought of the scrawny, stuttering kid he grew up with. Not a… _beefcake._

"He's precious! I want to fold him up and put him in my pocket," Pinky gushed. Shindo looked like he was constipated, or maybe that was fondness. Either way it was disgusting.

"Jesus, I would bully him too," Sen said flippantly. Shindo glared at the masked comedian and Present Mic looked like he didn't want to be on the show anymore. The host guffawed, probably happy for some confrontation. It had to be hard to talk shit about a hero with a pristine public persona. He was likely grasping at straws. Heroes weren't cut out for this kind of show. Most of them either lacked the backbone to be harsh, or they lacked the will to play along with the silly premise of the show. That's why they usually only let one on the panel at a time. Civilians guaranteed maximum chaos.

The footage changed to a video—probably the same day as all the pictures, he was in the same shirt—of Deku onstage in what was probably a high school auditorium. He could see that earthquake bastard in the background and Katsuki was instantly irked.

"Quake, is that you?" Pinky asked Shindo. Suddenly, Deku's voice was coming out of his television. Katsuki felt an odd urge to mute it and hide under the coffee table. He resolutely ignored it.

"'When I was four, I was the only kid in my school who didn't manifest a Quirk. I was already quiet and sensitive—I was already kind of _weird.'"_—Deku gave a wet laugh, a crybaby through and through—"'Suddenly, I was _other _on top of all that.'"—the recording cut what was probably an overlong speech, knowing rambling Deku, to hit the highlights. His face was splotchy and wet from crying but his voice was stronger—"'So many people knew and so many people ignored it and I was too scared to stand up for myself. I'm here to say to every person who's struggling with their self-worth that _I_ care about _you. _Bottom line: Quirkless or not, weird or not, no one deserves to be physically or emotionally abused by their peers.'"

Katsuki should've listened to his gut and muted the TV and hid under the coffee table.

Was Deku really that bent out of shape about his childhood? Did he really consider Katsuki a _bully?_ Suddenly their fights the last few times they saw each other made much more sense.

_Friends don't treat each other the way you treated me._

Truthfully, Katsuki hardly remembered the way he treated Deku. They were just kids. It didn't mean anything and in Katsuki's mind they hardly interacted once they were in middle school. They just grew apart. Katsuki was destined for greatness and Deku… just wasn't. Right?

_I'm here because I didn't listen to you._

Katsuki couldn't say he related to that on any level. He'd never been told he couldn't do something. The second his Quirk manifested everyone raised him up, applauded him, encouraged him to become the hero he always wanted to be. He never thought how much it must've hurt Deku to be told his dreams weren't possible.

The video ended when Deku walked toward the back of the stage. It cut off at the exact moment dumbass Shindo enveloped an emotional Deku in a hug.

"Question: is it fair for him to be on this panel when he's —_beep-_ing the hero in question?" It wasn't hard to figure out what swear word was blanked out. Sen pointed at a very red-faced Shindo. Pinky screamed. Katsuki choked.

"Do you hear that?" Pinky cupped a hand around her ear dramatically. "That's the sound of a thousand fangirls crying over the loss of Quake and Quirkless. What a devastating blow to the fandom!"

"And a thousand perverts _beep-_ing in their pants. How much erotic Fanfiction is being written right this moment?" Sen smacked the table with a fist, doubled over in laughter.

"I'm—Wha—!" Shindo finally rebooted and attempted to defend himself.

"All I heard was Quake's soul leaving his body," the host said, snickering at Shindo's expense.

"You heard it here first folks, Quakeless is canon."

"Hashtag Q Squared. That's your thing, right?"

"What the everloving fuck is going on?" Katsuki murmured, both horrified and pissed off and confused because this was a lot of information to take in so suddenly. Ashido continued squealing and cackling while Katsuki grappled with these unexpected revelations. The host was laughing too hard to speak, so he rolled the rest of the footage.

"Quirkless, who remains the only Quirkless person to be accepted into a heroics program, cracked the top 30 in the latest hero rankings, but remains as humble as ever."

The next clip was from what he assumed were the most recent rank unveiling events that happened a few months ago. Deku was in a suit and his hair was gelled. It was bizarre to see him looking so grown up. Katsuki wondered if he looked as different to Deku as Deku did to him. He wondered if Deku even followed his career—his was much harder to avoid in the news as a top 10 pro.

"'I'm honored to be considered a popular hero. Ultimately, the rankings are just a number. It doesn't matter if I'm number 1 or number 1000, I'm going to keep working to make Japan a safer place.'" Deku, in his slim fitting suit and red bow tie, spoke to a crowd of reporters, the top 50 heroes listed behind him.

"Only a loser who knows they'll never be number one would say that," Katsuki said. It was not lost on him that he was being highly critical for a person who was positively glued to his TV talking to himself.

"Wow, honestly? What a catch. Quake is so lucky."

"I'm not—!" Shindo tried again, but Sen cut him off with a very deadpan delivery, "Quirkless _beep-s_."

"I really thought I was coming on here to talk about education reform…" Present Mic said to no one, looking off far in the distance—probably looking for the exit.

Katsuki hardly slept that night. He tried to. He really did, but he couldn't get that stupid show and all the things he learned about his childhood friend—_victim?_—out of his head. He was plagued by all the things he knew and all the things he didn't. He simultaneously wanted to know more and less of Deku, or maybe he just wanted to know the things most people didn't. Were there things the public didn't know? There had to be. Privacy was hard to come by in their careers but Katsuki managed to keep his life almost completely out of the headlines—and he was way more popular than stupid Deku.

When Katsuki couldn't take staring at the ceiling anymore he unearthed his laptop—he hadn't used it for something not work related in literal years—and opened his browser. Nervously sweating nitroglycerin, he slowly typed _pro hero quirkless_ in the search bar. He felt like he was committing a crime. Anxious and unsure, his finger hovered over the enter button.

_Don't be a fucking coward,_ he thought, jabbing the button with excessive force. The page loaded in less than a second pulling up thousands of articles and links and photos. A majority of them were about the UA teaching position or opinion pieces about his recent top 30 status. He scrolled past those until one title caught his eye. _19 Things You Probably Don't Know About Quirkless._

Deku's words echoed in the back of his skull again. _No offense, but you don't know who I am._

He clicked on the article. It was no hard-hitting journalistic piece about Deku. It was just some fluffy list article about bullshit Katsuki actually did know; like that his favorite color was red, not green, that his favorite thing to eat was katsudon, and that "he's a total mama's boy." The photo under that fact was a side by side of two photos. One was from his days at Ketsubutsu, judging from the uniform. He still looked the way Katsuki remembered him except with a little more muscle. Tiny Deku with his mom behind him, her arms draped over his shoulders, both of them with fond smiles pointed at the camera. The picture beside it was more recent, but before the scar. Deku with his close-cropped haircut in his hero costume embracing his mom in the same way she had in the previous picture. She was a little more wrinkled with some greys in her long green hair, but for the most part she looked the same. It was from the "officialquirkless" Winstagram page, like most of the other pictures in the article. The caption read, "Happy Mother's Day to a real hero! #mamasboy #babyquirkless #anyonecanbeahero."

His chest hurt at the look of pure and weepy affection on Midoriya Inko's face. Katsuki wondered if Deku ran his own social media pages. Add that to the list of things Katsuki didn't know.

He scrolled down looking for lesser known information, but ultimately ended up stopping to stare at another Winstagram post under "He's super modest!"

This time it was a post by "proheroquake." It was a ten second video of Deku—looking like an absolute fucking tomato he was so red in the face—in Quake's hero costume, but it was clearly a cheap Halloween store knock off. He was obviously trying to cover himself up in Quake's skimpy, ill-fitting costume. In an embarrassing squeal, Deku said, "I'm basically naked!"

His voice cracked on the word _naked_ and Shindo could be heard behind the camera cackling while zooming in on Deku's scantily-clad ass. Katsuki bristled with unfounded jealousy. The caption said, "Poor officialquirkless lost a bet. Come ogle his abs at #HeroCon this weekend! #bootyshorts # #Qsquared #fanservice."

Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard at "#Qsquared" he swore he could see his brain. He was about to give up entirely on the bullshit article because any dipshit with half a brain and a Winstagram account would probably be able to figure these things out about Deku, and then he saw his name. The last fact said, "He saved Ground Zero!"

For once, the accompanying picture wasn't a Winstagram post. It was a hero news archive video of Katsuki flailing inside the sludge villain from nearly a decade ago. It wasn't a close up by any means, but Katsuki could see the terror in his own eyes as he gasped for air and only breathed in suffocating, putrid liquid. And then there was tiny, Quirkless Deku running headlong into danger while the rest of the pros stood and watched. He hurled his backpack at the sludge villain's eyes, and Katsuki came up for air. In real life, Katsuki released the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

He'd never seen footage of that day. He was so pissed off about needing to be saved he just wanted to forget it ever happened. He never thanked Deku and all the pro's at the scene yelled at him for being reckless. And that was the last time he saw Deku before he moved away.

It was slowly becoming clear to Katsuki that he had a lot to be sorry for when it came to Deku.

Three days.

Three days of hardly sleeping because he was stalking Deku on every social media platform. Katsuki was horrified to find that he—and by he, he meant the PR agent he paid to run GZ_official—already followed Deku's (and fucking Shindo's) Winstagram and Tweeter accounts.

He found that most every post by Deku was already liked and he'd come to the conclusion that Deku probably personally managed all of his accounts. It was all so personal. Most of Katsuki's lame ass posts was footage of him taking down villains, or candid shots of him and various members of #bakusquad with bullshit captions like "Plus Ultra" or just links to his merch site. What the fuck.

Deku, on the other hand, posted almost every day—_where did he find the time?_—and every post was a window into his life. There were pictures of his pets—a dog and a hamster—pictures of his mom, his fans, his friends. Deku had so many friends, both heroes and civilians alike. He found that he knew both Uraraka and Iida because they commented on almost all of his pictures. He posted a lot photos of the three of them too. On Uraraka's birthday last year, he posted a picture of them in a dojo. They looked tired and sweaty but they smiled for the camera anyway, holding up peace signs. "Happy birthday to my favorite UA grad ultra_uravity ! #gunheadmartialarts #plusultra."

How was it that, in all these years, Deku was so close to Katsuki's life, but never part of it? How many of his old classmates did he know? They existed in the same orbit, but never got around to each other. That left him wanting.

No matter how many friends Deku had, there was no doubt that Quake was his closest. He was in every other post, all tagged #Qsquared. Katsuki wanted to rip that stupid hashtag off the screen and punt it into the sun—but only after looking at damn near every post. Most of them were fan photos at conventions or charity events. You'd think they were a damn duo the way they were always together. No wonder everyone thought they were dating—_were they dating?_

Katsuki cared more than he should. More than he had a right to apparently. He hadn't seen Deku in five years, and that last meeting was disastrous, but something under Katsuki's skin itched to see him again. Deku was like a comet streaking across the sky. He lit up everything around him and Katsuki had no choice but to look and take it all in and memorize it because comets didn't come around that often. Maybe it would never come around again.

That didn't stop Katsuki from trying, though. On his day off, he discovered Deku's cell phone number in his contact list. For two hours, he stared at the number, talking himself in and out of calling.

_Surely, that's not still his number._

Katsuki's number was the same, why couldn't Deku's be?

_What would I even say?_

Sorry would be a good start, but Katsuki had never apologized for anything in his life. Could he even verbalize that?

"Sorry." He tested the word, felt his tongue curl around it. It sounded weird and wrong and like he wanted to suck the word back between his teeth and swallow it. What did sorry even mean? In the end, it was just a word. What would a single word do for him and Deku? Katsuki was a man of action. Fuck words.

Before he knew it the phone was ringing, Deku's name rolling across the screen. Katsuki instantly regretting pushing the button. His stomach was in his throat as he waited for Deku to pick up.

"_Muh…_ Hello?" He sounded disoriented, sleepy. At fucking noon?

"Hey." Katsuki's voice came out pinched and nervous. He cleared his throat.

"Who's this?" Deku's voice was distant. Katsuki imagined him holding the phone away from his face to inspect the unknown number on the screen. He tried not to be annoyed that Deku didn't have his number.

"Katsuki."

"_Bakugo?"_ He sounded only marginally more awake with shock.

"Who the hell else? And what are you doing still sleeping at noon, Deku?"

"I work nights," he said, a small sigh sounding through the phone. Katsuki heard rustling bedding.

"Oh. I… didn't know that."

In the following silence Katsuki could practically hear Deku's words from years ago. _You don't know who I am._

"What do you want, Kacchan?" Deku sounded exasperated. Katsuki tried really hard not to blow up or call him stupid or be a bully. That word thrummed under his skin in time with his heartbeat. _Bully. Bully. Bully._

"I—Congrats on the UA job. My parents want you to come to dinner once you get moved in."

The words flew out of Katsuki's mouth before he could really think about them. What the fuck was he doing?

"Uh, thanks. Is… is that how you got my number? Your parents?" Awkward. Tentative. Like Katsuki was a bomb to defuse. Well… he wasn't wrong.

"I've always had your number," he snapped.

"Right. Well, I guess I'll call your parents when I'm settled."

"You could call me."

"I'll call your parents," Deku said, firm, and then he added, "I'm sure my mom wants to see them too. Is that all?"

There was so much more. But Katsuki didn't know how to say it and make it mean anything. So he said, "Yeah. Call me if you need help moving."

He tried to imagine being tagged in a picture on Deku's Winstagram, but he couldn't even imagine occupying the same space as Deku, let alone anyone wanting to commemorate the event.

"Okay," Deku said, and by his incredulous tone Katsuki knew he would never call him. Deku probably had 20 friends lined up to help him already. Katsuki felt left out, starved for Deku's attention. He'd never wanted anyone's attention before, but then again, he'd never had to ask for attention.

Katsuki fell asleep with his phone in his hand, open to Deku's Tweeter feed. It was a series of posts about the tedium of packing and moving. "Villains are nothing compared to moving halfway across the country #sendhelp."

"Help has arrived! Thanks proheroquake ultra_uravity ingeniumhero"

Deku was draped across three floating boxes, posing for the camera. Uraraka could be seen in the corner of the room doing her signature hero pose. Shindo stood off to the side balancing a floating box on one finger and flexing his biceps. Iida and Deku's mom seemed to actually be working, wrapping breakables in newspaper in the background. Katsuki's stomach lurched when we realized Shindo was wearing Deku's "dress shirt" T-shirt.

— — — — —

Izuku spent the day methodically packing away his things. It was incredible how much junk he collected in the five years he spent in the apartment. It was a run-down hovel, but it was home to him.

"Why is this in your kitchen, of all places?"

His mother held up a bobblehead of Eraserhead that was sitting on the windowsill behind his stove. Izuku laughed, and thought briefly about putting in on the desk in his new office. He wondered how long it would take Aizawa to threaten him to remove it from UA grounds.

"Clearly, I'm no savvy decorator," he said, plucking the bobblehead from her hand.

"You should ask Mitsuki to help you decorate your new apartment," his mom said. She swore by the curtains Mitsuki once picked for their old apartment years ago.

"Speaking of, Kacchan called me," Izuku said, tentatively, like he was telling her an unsolvable riddle. He tripped over the old nickname—it was so foreign to him now, he wondered if he should revert to calling him Bakugo in their few encounters he might have to endure in the future. His mom's big green eyes fixed curiously on his.

"About?"

"He said his parents want me over for dinner again, but I don't really want to go if you're not going."

Inko sighed as she folded another breakable in a hand towel and packed it neatly into a box labeled kitchen. She didn't know much about his past with Bakugo, just that he wasn't the friend she assumed he was. Izuku was sure she made assumptions about them, but Izuku would never definitively say. It would be much more trouble that it was worth. Still, she knew that Bakugo, the Bakugo family as a unit, actually, always tied his stomach in anxious knots.

"Of course, I'll go. I'm surprised he still had your number," she said, placing newspaper between a stack of plates.

"Me too."

"Mitsuki hasn't said anything about it to me. I talked to her last week." She wrinkled her nose, clearly thinking. About what, Izuku couldn't guess.

"It's… going to be weird being in Musutafu again. Especially without you."

"It's part of growing up, baby. I think you'll enjoy a change of pace. You haven't been yourself lately."

"You're right. Maybe I do need some time away."

That was an understatement. Ever since his injury, and the expected fallout from it, Izuku had been angrier than usual. Part of him was always angry, always simmering like a pot just shy of rolling to a boil, but the stress of his dreams were getting to him.

He never thought being a hero, getting everything he wanted in life, would be so taxing. It was a constant uphill battle. As if fighting villains wasn't enough, he was metaphorically fighting heroes and civilians as well. Spite was the only thing keeping him going now. He hoped teaching at UA would help him reconnect to his roots. Maybe seeing all the new prospective heroes will help him see his goals as worthwhile again.

Everything got a little lighter, a little easier once reinforcements arrived. Uraraka and Iida graciously offered to help as soon as Izuku told them he'd be moving to Musutafu. Uraraka made quick work of loading boxes in the moving truck with her Quirk. It was easy to focus on the pleasant give and take of the conversation in the room when everything around him that usually weighed him down was so light.

Shindo was last to arrive, just coming off a patrol to see him off. He'd been weird and fidgety around Izuku ever since he told him it was finally time to her serious about the UA position he'd been sitting on all this time. Or maybe he'd been weird ever since his accident. Or maybe it was the fact that they'd started casually sleeping together.

The fact that all these things happened within a few months of each other probably didn't help.

"I'm gonna miss you," Izuku said. He meant it, truly, but not in the mushy, romantic way. That's just wasn't who they were. Shindo was his biggest supporter, the one who knew him best.

"I've been thinking… maybe I can move a little closer to you. My contract with the agency is almost up and I was gonna start my own soon anyway."

"You know being any closer to the city would be disastrous for you. Your Quirk doesn't mix well with skyscrapers."

"Right. How could I forget that?" He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Izuku frowned at him.

"Are you okay? You've been all over the place lately," Izuku said, genuine worry in his voice.

Instead of an answer Shindo moved closer, leaning down to catch Izuku's mouth in a kiss that was way too passionate for how close his mom was in the other room. He put a hand on his chest, creating some space between them before he got lost in the kiss.

"What's going on?"

"I love you," he said, urgent and abrupt before pulling Izuku in for another kiss, this time rougher. Shindo's tongue slid lightly across Izuku's bottom lip, asking permission to enter. Izuku pushed him away again. He needed to find his bearings, keep his wits about him. He was unsure of how to navigate the situation.

"Shindo," he started, only to trail off again, at a loss.

"I know it's not the best time to say it. You're leaving and all, but I just needed to get it out there. So you know that I'm going to do everything I can to make this—us—work."

_Us_. Izuku didn't know there was an _us_ to even consider.

"Nothing's going to change. We're still us," Izuku said, putting his hands on Shindo's shoulders to subtly create more distance between them. Izuku's reply was noncommittal at best, but in his mind the words were true. Nothing had to change because they were friends. They would always be friends. Izuku didn't want anything more with Shindo—with anyone, really. He didn't have time for much more than fumbling romps in the dark and stolen kisses between making sure he ate three times a day and saving people's lives and pretending to be happy on social media so his hero rank wouldn't suffer.


	4. One Small Step

**FEBRUARY**

"So this is what it's like on the other side," Shinso says as he takes a seat in front of the monitors. On each screen sits a defunct robot, lying in wait for this year's batch of UA hopefuls. Izuku feels slightly out of his depth. Unlike Shinso, he never took the UA practical, so he doesn't really know what to expect. The robots look too big for children to fight, especially the kids he's looking to recruit for Class M.

"How are we going to narrow this down to forty kids?"

"I really don't know how Aizawa does it every year. He has even more kids to sift through."

On the table in front of them is a stack of about seventy UA applications. Every single student in the stack has a nonphysical Quirk. That alone isn't enough to make it into his and Shindo's new classes, but it was a good way to pin down the students they needed to keep an eye on. He's looking for smart, strong willed students who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty. He wanted problem solvers first and foremost. Shinso's looking more for kids with powerful nonphysical Quirks, like his and Aizawa's. At least they wouldn't have to fight too much over students.

They both had twenty spots to fill for classes L and M. In addition to these seventy plus applicants, they also had to consider kids who only applied to the General course. To do that, they added two new questions to the written exam. At the very end of the test, the new questions are: true or false, this test is strictly for General course admission; then, true or false, if your Quirk were "better suited" to Heroics, you would have applied. If the applicants marked true for both questions, and they scored ninety percent or higher on the exam, their applications automatically got passed to Aizawa, Shinso, and Izuku for consideration.

They hadn't settled on a name for the class distinction yet. Shinso wanted to call it General Plus, but Izuku had a feeling that would piss of the General course kids and give classes L and M an undeserved superiority complex. Aizawa suggested calling it Underground Heroics, but nobody wanted to put them in boxes. Their prospective students didn't need to be told what they could and couldn't do in the future. They'd heard that enough from other people. Izuku was pushing for General Heroics. It was vague enough to work, but set the expectation that the class was neither General studies nor a full-blown Heroics course. There were still a lot of details to hammer out. Izuku never imagined everything would still be so up in the air when they started picking students. Izuku was used to fine details and meticulous planning. He was used to never moving unless he had all the information. It was unnerving to be jumping headfirst into a revolutionary teaching program with only half a plan.

Aizawa strolled in just as Izuku was starting to open up the first application. He looked more well-rested than usual. Apparently, the only vacation time Aizawa ever took from his agency was in the weeks before and after the entrance exam. Aizawa could be unpleasant and grumpy, but no one could say he took his job as a teacher lightly.

"You ready?" Aizawa took an open seat at the table. Nezu gave them a private room, away from the other teachers, so they could focus solely on their applicants.

"How do you weed out so many students every year?" Izuku asked instead of answering.

"You can't look at it like you're crushing a thousand kids' dreams. You have to focus on the fact that you're offering the chance of a lifetime to twenty talented kids. If those other kids are smart, they already applied to back up schools. They'll end up where they're supposed to." Aizawa spoke with careful indifference and that told Izuku that he's lost plenty of sleep over crushing dreams. Izuku nodded.

"So what should we be focusing on?" Shinso asked.

"The monitors," Aizawa deadpanned. Izuku chuckled. Aizawa and Shinso were obviously very close. All of Shindo's internships in school were spent with Aizawa and to this day, he's the only hero that's learned Aizawa's capture techniques. Sometimes Izuku felt a little left out of their easy camaraderie.

"Thank you, oh wise instructor."

Izuku could never get away with saying that to Aizawa, and he definitely wouldn't get a smirk out of him.

"Look for applicants who exemplify what you think Heroics is all about. They don't have to score a lot of points to be good. Most of the applicants who show up on these screens won't have good scores, but I know you'll know when you see it."

A buzzing alarm sounds in the room, and the robots came alive on the monitors. With that, Aizawa stands and moves to leave.

"Day one of reviewing footage. I've got to go find my own prospective applicants. Good luck."

**MARCH**

Katsuki was nervous and excited and probably losing his fucking mind because Deku was due in his family home any minute. His mom kept shooting him looks like she knew something was up. She would stare at Katsuki's tapping foot, his clenched fists, the way he fidgeted with his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

"You seem…eager." It was an accusation and a question all in one. She narrowed her eyes at him like he was a puzzle to solve.

"Shut up, hag," he snapped, fisting his hands in the fabric of one of his nicer shirts—well, nice for Katsuki—and then he cursed and set out to smooth it out so it wouldn't wrinkle. It was hardly a formal shirt by most people's standards, but this one didn't have a skull on it, so it may as well have been a tuxedo to Katsuki.

"Why are you so dressed up, brat? Got a hot date after this?" His mom asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning in the doorway to the kitchen. She wore the beginnings of a smirk.

"_No._ I—Oh, fuck it I'm gonna go change." The second the words left his lips the doorbell rang. Katsuki physically jolted, legs locking like a startled colt.

"Calm down. It's just the Midoriyas."

That's exactly why he wasn't calm. He hadn't seen Deku since the last time they hosted him for dinner, and that interaction was less than stellar. He knew so much more about Deku this time, and by extension, he knew more about himself. He didn't want Deku to think he was a bully anymore. Gruff and rude with an impressive array of profanities, sure. But not a bully.

On top of the shit sundae that was their relationship, Katsuki would have to impress his mom too. He hadn't seen her since he was in high school. Auntie Inko used to love him like a second son when he was little. When he got older, she was always genial and polite, but there was an insurmountable chasm between them. He understood now that it was suspicion that chilled their relationship. He wondered how much she knew about his behavior when he was younger. Probably much more than Deku let on. His mom shuffled to the front door. Katsuki decided to hide in the kitchen for a little while longer.

"Inko! You little shit it's been way too long," his mom said in her shrill, excited voice she only ever used for Auntie. She continued her antics, probably grabbing Izuku and forcing him into a bear hug.

"Izuku, you looked more handsome every time I see you. I bet chicks dig the scar, right?"

From his hiding spot in the kitchen, he heard a laugh that was distinctly male and _not Deku's._

_Who the fuck?_

Before he could think too hard about the fact that even after all these years, he could still recognize Deku's laugh, he walked into the living room. The first thing he saw were the Midoriyas in all their green glory. That he expected, even excitedly anticipated on some level. What he didn't expect was to see Shindo Yo in his goddamn living room shaking hands with his mother.

"Katsuki, don't just stand there. Greet your guests."

Katsuki mentally shook himself and deliberately didn't look at Shindo.

"Hi, Auntie," Katsuki said, doing his best to sound soft and non-threatening. He held his arms up for a hug and everyone looked at him like he sprouted a third eye in the center of his forehead. It was annoying, but he couldn't really fault them for that reaction. He couldn't remember the last time he put any effort into a hug he was forced into, much less willingly initiating one. After a moment of hesitation, Auntie wrapped him in a hug. It had all the same warmth it did when he was younger. When they separated, Katsuki made eye contact with Deku. His nerves came to a head and he could feel his face getting hot under Deku's indifferent gaze.

"Deku," he said, and it sounded too much like the greeting he gave last time they saw each other. Quickly, he added the first thought that came to his mind. "You look good."

Izuku's only response was to look at Shindo, who Katsuki had been doing a brilliant job of ignoring completely. If he thought he could get away with it, he wouldn't even greet him. Reluctantly, he stuck a hand out towards Shindo.

"Quake, it's been awhile," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Not since the hero rankings a few years ago. You can call me Shindo. No need to be so formal," Shindo said. Just like the first time he met him at the provisional licensing exam, his voice was polite, but his eyes told a different story. That's fine. He didn't fucking like him either.

Everything was a disaster. Katsuki was doing everything in his power to be polite and repentant and Deku wouldn't even look at him. They spent the evening awkwardly catching up. Deku was damn near mute. Shindo monopolized the conversation—sometimes even answering for Deku when his mom asked him a question. Katsuki was incensed, most of his brain power was going to trying not to snap his chopsticks in half. When dinner ended and the awkward tension finally broke, Deku and Shindo moved to the living room, subtle trying to separate themselves. Katsuki watched them go; he noticed the casual way they touched each other, spoke to each other. He noticed the fact that Shindo calls him Izuku—Izu when he thought no one was listening. Shindo looked at Izuku the way his dad looked at his mom and that felt a little like a knife in the gut.

Suddenly Katsuki felt so stupid for feeling anything for Deku—whatever he may be feeling. He wasn't really ready to get into that. He doesn't want to think too hard about what shouldn't be. He doesn't deserve it. And yet he can't keep himself from trying to repair the decade wide rift between them.

"Deku," Katsuki said, a last ditch effort. They were leaving, and this was the first time all night Shindo hadn't stood between them like he was trying to protect Deku from him. Deku paused on the doorstep. He looked back at Katsuki, tentative, waiting. It was so much like the last time, and Katsuki stuck his foot in his mouth. He knew better now.

"Can I see you again?" Katsuki muttered, his head ducked low. For the first time that night, he felt Deku really look at him. He looked sad and unsure and heavily guarded. Deku's eyes always held so much. On some level Katsuki always knew that, but he never let himself look for too long.

"I'm sure we're bound to run into each other."

That wasn't really an answer, but it was all Katsuki got.

**APRIL**

Izuku sat in the teachers lounge with Shinso, Aizawa, and Nezu. They had two weeks before the term started and he was determined to put all his energy into classes 1-L and 1-M, the brand new section of classes headed by Izuku and Shinso.

"Nezu and I think it would be a good idea to do a demonstration of the things the students would be learning in General Heroics. Something to separate the real heroes from the dreamers right off the bat," Aizawa said from the couch. He looked as exhausted as Izuku felt. The last two weeks had been full of sleepless nights finishing up lessons plans and finalizing class trips.

"What did you have in mind?" Izuku asked.

"A sparring demonstration. You two up against top UA alums. We were thinking Uravity and Ground Zero. They've already expressed an interest in helping with the classes in the future as well."

"No."

Everyone in the room did a double take at Izuku's outright rejection. Izuku was, up to this point, the epitome of laid back. He'd never refused to do something Aizawa asked.

"Explain," Nezu said, calm, but with a commanding presence.

"I think it's a great idea, but I won't work with Ground Zero. I don't want him anywhere near these kids."

Shinso let out a low whistle, no doubt trying to defuse the tension rolling off Aizawa in waves.

"What's your beef with Bakugo?" Shinso added when the staring contest between Izuku and Aizawa continued for a full thirty seconds.

"He's volatile. I'm not going to let him near kids who've been put down all their lives."

"And has nothing to do with the fact that you went to middle school together?" Aizawa said, narrowing his eyes at Izuku.

"It has everything to do with it. I knew him before he was famous and putting on a good face for cameras. He's a bully and I refuse to let him near my students."

"Too bad. They're already here. Bakugo, long time no see."

To Izuku's horror, he turned his head to find Bakugo in the doorway, looking a little dumbstruck. Izuku smothered the little spark of guilt glaring to life in his stomach. So what if Bakugo heard? He stood by everything he said. May as well let his feelings be known.

"Hey, Deku," Bakugo said. He'd never heard him sound so off-kilter. _Good._

"Midoriya, the plans are set. This will be good for your students," Aizawa said with a sense of finality. With the same sense of finality, Izuku stood and leveled a stared at Aizawa.

"No." And he walked out.

—

"Well, this is awkward. How ya been, Bakugo? Make any kids cry lately?" Shinso said. Katsuki could appreciate the fact that Shinso was trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere Deku left behind. He did not appreciate the fact that the levity came at his expense. He was feeling shitty enough.

_Bully. Deku called me a bully._

"What happened to Midoriya?" Uraraka asked, walking in a few seconds after Deku's angry exit.

"He's acting like a petulant child," Aizawa said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Shinso said, his eyes darting to Katsuki's for only a second before returning back to Aizawa.

"He does, and it's none of your business. Just… let me talk to him," Katsuki said. He dropped his gym bag by the door before stepping out of the lounge. He heard someone mutter that that was a terrible idea, but he wasn't going to let anyone stop him.

He had no idea what he was going to say when he found Deku, but he knew Deku would be in the nearest training room. He could hear him grunting and punching a bag all the way from the hall.

"Deku," Katsuki said, keeping to the doorway. Deku was like a feral animal when he was angry. It was hard to reconcile with the happy go lucky kid he used to be.

"That's not my name," Deku said, kicking the punching bag without mercy.

"It feels weird calling you anything else," he admitted.

Deku paused in his assault on the bag, panting heavily. He just stared at Katsuki, his green eyes boring holes in his face. Katsuki resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze.

"Why are you here?"

He didn't know if he meant _here_ as in UA or if he meant in the training room trying to talk Deku down. He decided to be obtuse.

"Aizawa called me. You don't say no to Aizawa."

"Not even the great Ground Zero?"

"Sarcasm doesn't look good on you."

"Do you really think you can do anything for my students? They're not like you and your flashy Quirk. They can't blow up robots."

Katsuki did his best to breathe, to stay calm. He walked further into the room.

"I'm not going to be shitty to your students. I want them to succeed too," he said, allowing himself to sounds as tired as he felt. Dealing with Deku and the years of bullshit between them took too much out of him. He wanted it all to be worth it eventually.

"I don't trust you."

"You don't have to. Can't we just… call a truce?"

"A truce," Deku said, his voice flat and dead.

"Yeah. It's just a spar."

Izuku was silent for a long time, looking everywhere but at Katsuki. He was about to give up, tell Aizawa he would bow out and get Kirishima to cover him. Then Deku spoke.

"Fine. Only because Aizawa is going to kill me if I back out."

Katsuki smirked. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

—

"Welcome. I'm Izuku Midoriya, the hero Quirkless, and I'll be your homeroom teacher."

Katsuki stood at the back of the classroom, his eyes glued to Deku. He couldn't see much of the kids' expressions from where he stood, but he could tell they were in rapt attention. Katsuki was never so obedient under Aizawa's tutelage, but then again Aizawa was never much to look at. Deku, with his hard smile and scarred face was a force in the room. He was confident—something Katsuki never would've believed if he wasn't seeing it play out in front of him.

"We've got a demonstration planned today, just to show you what you guys are in for in this course, but first I have a few things I want to go over."

Some students nodded, some pulled out their notebooks and held their pens above a fresh sheet of paper, ready and waiting.

"Raise your hand if someone's ever told you your Quirk wasn't suited to hero work."

At first, only a few hands went up, but after a few seconds more hands tentatively rose to the air. Pretty soon every kid had a hand in the air, their heads dipped weakly in embarrassment. Deku nodded, his smile faltering a bit, but not in a way that showed he was surprised by the answer. It was more like a determined fury he couldn't smile through.

"So we're all in the same boat. Now, raise your hand if you took the hero practical exam when you applied to UA, despite everyone's warnings."

Only about half the hands in the room remained in the air. Deku nodded again, and pointed at a kid who didn't have his hands raised.

"Why didn't you take the hero practical?" Deku asked, his voice softening ever so slightly, so as not to frighten the tiny kid he singled out. Katsuki couldn't believe he was ever that small once. The kid spoke low and tentative.

"I knew what the exam entailed. My Quirk doesn't work on robots."

"Fair enough. Thank you for sharing. Is that pretty much how it went for everyone else?"

Heads bobbed in answer, small whispers flying around the room, but no one spoke to Deku.

"Okay. What about you? You took the test. Why?" Deku pointed at a girl with dark purple hair; she visibly started when Deku's eyes landed on her.

"I didn't know about the robots. But I guess I didn't care. I wanted to be a hero, so I did what I had to do."

Deku smiled at her, a real one, not the hard sham of a smile he'd had on since the class started.

"Thank you. That's the kind of spirit you _have_ to have if you want to finish this course. I can't teach it to you. I can teach you how to push yourselves and how to fight and how to train your mind to see what other don't, but if you don't have the drive or the will to work yourself to the bone, you won't make it." Deku paused. He let his words sink into the children in front of him. Katsuki wished he could see their faces.

"So who's got the guts to stick with this no matter how many people try to tell you you can't?"

No hands shot up in the air but he could see furious head nods and hear some students muttering their assent. One student close enough for Katsuki to hear just said, "I can," over and over again, like she was willing herself to believe it.

Deku's smile seemed unconvinced—he probably expected some of them to fall off the wagon and high tail it back to the General course. He clasped his gloved hand together.

"Perfect. Now take out a piece of paper. Ground Zero, come up here for a second."

Katsuki started at Deku's casual command. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that was the first time he'd ever heard Deku refer to him as Ground Zero. Katsuki sauntered to the front of the class between the awestruck kids on either side of him. He crossed his arms and leveled every kid in the room with his signature glare.

"I'm sure you all know Ground Zero. Top of his graduating class, ranked first in his hero exam, and so on. You can look all this up on Moogle, I don't have time to sing his praises. Now, take some time. Look at me, look at him. I want you to write down on that piece of paper who you think would win in a fight. Quirkless versus Ground Zero. Once you write down your answer, fold it up, turn it in, and go change to your gym uniforms. Meet me in Training Gym 2 in 20 minutes." Deku made a shooing gesture with his hands and all the kids began writing.

"Deku, you really gonna fight me in front of all your students when you just spend half the class time hyping them up?" Katsuki asked when the last of the students funneled out to the locker rooms.

Deku turned his head, his arms crossed and his hands fisted. The mask of cool indifference was back. Deku raised an eyebrow just slightly, gave him an appraising look up and down and up again until their eyes met.

"Yep."

And then he was off, headed toward the training gym. Once he was at the door, he threw a casual, "Don't be late," over his shoulder and left Katsuki staring after him, dumbfounded.

Katsuki stood in a line of UA alums behind Aizawa, Shinso, and Deku. Uraraka stood on his right, and Kirishima on his left. He was surprised to see most of his classmates standing next to him. More than half the people he graduated with stood by—surely to spectate, but also as a means of hyping up the forty prospective heroes on the other side of the mat. As far as he knew, only he and Uraraka would actually be sparring in front of the class.

The last of the kids filed in in their brand new gym uniforms and Aizawa stepped up.

"Welcome, classes 1-L and 1-M. I'm Mr. Aizawa and I'll be overseeing your training from time to time along with your homeroom teachers. Behind me, are some of this generation's most successful UA alums. They're here to help you get into the mindset of a hero. I'm sure I don't need to introduce them. Today, we'll be showing you that you don't need a flashy Quirk to win a fight. Let's get started. Quirkless, Ground Zero, you're up."

Both Katsuki and Deku walked forward. Katsuki shook out his arms and rolled his shoulders. He'd decided to forgo his gauntlets for the exercise. He didn't need them to wipe the floor with Deku, and he couldn't handle anymore structural damage complaints this month.

"Alright, Class M, I've got those papers you turned in. Keep those in mind, and do your best to think critically about the match. Try to see beyond the fight. Break it down into moves and countermoves, and we'll discuss afterward." Izuku turned to face Katsuki and dropped into a fighting stance. Katsuki did the same on the other side of the mat, waiting for Aizawa to start the match.

"Begin," Aizawa said, very little inflection in his voice. Katsuki was lunging forward before the word was even fully spoken. Izuku reacted fast as well, pulling something off his utility belt. That's when Katsuki realized he had no idea how Izuku fought. He was flying completely blind.

The small bar he pulled off his belt extended to four times its original length in a matter of seconds, and before he knew it, Katsuki was being bitch slapped by one end of a bo staff, and lightly electrocuted by the other end. It was hardly more than a little jolt on his side, but it fucked with his balance.

Izuku was fast—much faster than anyone as big as he was had any right to be. While Katsuki was off balance, the bo staff swung again, this time sweeping under his legs. Katsuki was on his back in seconds. He growled, embarrassed and pissed off and the slightest bit turned on. He didn't stay down long, but he knew that Izuku let him get up. He wanted this match drawn out.

"I hope you're not going easy on me, Zero," Izuku taunted as he made a show of flipping backwards to put more space between him and Katsuki.

"Not a fucking chance, Deku," Katsuki growled, sparks popping in his palms. He lunged again, ready for the bo staff this time. He swung his arm and managed to hit Deku's shoulder with a half-powered explosion. He was much better and practicing control over his output. In his early hero days, there were a lot of villains with third degree burns left in his wake. He wouldn't burn Deku that badly, no matter how much he wanted to win.

Deku seemed mildly shaken by the explosion, but his costume seemed to be flame retardant. He figured his skin didn't burn at all, but the punch obviously hurt. Deku swung his bo staff again, then let it fall to the ground. Again, Katsuki was taken by surprise. He didn't expect Deku to drop the staff and punch him in the gut.

"Watch your language around my students!" He punched him again, this time an uppercut the the jaw. Katsuki staggered back. He needed some distance between him and Deku to regain his composure.

Deku couldn't have that, so he lunged at Katsuki.

"And my name," he started, faking like he would punch him again before his momentum changed and Katsuki took a kick square in the chest. "Is Quirkless," he finished. He let Katsuki regain his balance again, opting to step back to his side of the ring, a satisfied smile on his face.

Distantly, he could hear all his old classmates cackling at his expense. Katsuki'd had about enough of Deku's shit, so he lunged again for a no hold's barred attack, ready to be done with the match. Just as a massive explosion went off again, Deku deflected Katsuki's arm in a move that seemed reminiscent of Aikido. He used Katsuki's forward momentum to push him further and slip around to Katsuki's back.

In seconds, Katsuki was on his stomach with Deku's knee firmly in his back, his wrists in Deku's unforgiving grip. His arms were stretched out to the side and pulled up like some kind of fucked up partner stretching exercise. Katsuki was thoroughly subdued.

"Alright, enough. Quirkless wins," Aizawa said. Katsuki couldn't see him from that angle, but it sounded like the bastard was smiling.

"Good spar, Zero," Deku said, dropping Katsuki's arms and removing the knee in his back. Deku dusted off his hands and turned to face his students again.

"Alright, let's discuss. First of all, I know those papers were anonymous, but there's one person who called the match right. Can you raise your hand?"

A short boy with round cheeks and a black bowl cut raised his hand. Katsuki got up and attempted to make his retreat, but stopped when Deku put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay. We're not done."

Katsuki grumbled, feeling very much like a dog following it's master's orders. A chorus of barely concealed giggles went up behind him again. Deku turned to his student again when he was sure Katsuki would stay like a good puppy.

"What made you vote for me?" Izuku asked. The boy looked sheepish and made an attempt to make himself looks smaller before answering.

"My Quirk. It's called Gamble. I'm… really good at winning bets."

"Hah! That's awesome. We'll have to talk more about it later."

For a second, Katsuki saw the old Deku appear before him. The one who got excited about Quirks, and spent hours writing in his notebooks. He could see the curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Katsuki tried not to smile.

"So what did you guys notice about the match? What can you tell me? Don't be shy! There are no wrong answers."

It's been a long time since Katsuki had seen Deku looking so chipper. Must be the adrenaline. _And the sheer vindictive pleasure of kicking my ass._

"You definitely held back. I think Ground Zero did too, at first," a pale girl with fangs and purple eyes said.

"I don't hold back, kid," Katsuki griped.

"Then you're just really bad at hand to hand? How are you the number nine hero?" a girl with blue skin and blue feathers for hair boldly yelled from the back of the group. Katsuki damn near choked on his blinding rage. He hated kids.

"Be nice to Zero. He's a very accomplished hero and all of you would be lucky to learn something from him. That said, it's natural to hold back in a spar, especially with a Quirk as dangerous as his," Deku said, surprisingly coming to his defense. It'd be a nicer gesture if he didn't have such a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Why did you hold back then?" The same feathered girl asked. He wondered what her Quirk was.

"I wanted to teach you guys something. You wouldn't learn anything if the match was over in two minutes. Now, let's get to the good stuff. Show me your analytical skills," Deku said. Katsuki was starting to feel like the butt of every joke. He guessed it was a small price to pay for being an asshole in middle school, but that didn't mean he wasn't seething with rage.

"Ground Zero seemed surprised by your fighting style," the boy with the bowl cut said. He seemed to be gaining confidence after Deku complimented his Quirk.

"Perfect! Nice catch. That's one of the most important lessons you'll learn in this class: no matter what you do, don't be predictable," Deku said, talking with his hands the way he did when he was a kid and he was really excited about a Quirk or an All Might video he watched.

"You also clearly know each other. Did that have any effect on the match?" Someone—Katsuki couldn't see who because he was so taken aback by the statement—said.

"It definitely did. That's another important thing to consider. You have to know your enemy. Many of you will most likely transition into underground heroics, and information gathering is essential to an underground pro. I happen to know Zero. I've spent a lot of time analyzing his fighting style and I know his personality. What did you guys notice about his fighting style?"

"He likes to lunge!"

"He always attacks first."

"He's a very angry boi."

"Killer right hook!"

"Yeah! He almost always leads with a right hook. In other words, he's predictable. See where I'm going with this?"

"Yes, Sensei."

Izuku smiled at the honorific, looking disgustingly fond of his gaggle of baby heroes. They all seemed pretty enamored with their teacher. Katsuki couldn't help but feel the same. Despite his wounded ego, and the blooming bruise on his chin, he was floored by seeing Deku in action. Even more so, he was floored by the life in his eyes. Katsuki didn't know it was missing until he saw it again. He needed this. _They_ needed this.

"You guys did great. Keep trying to think like that with the upcoming match. Try to think of ways you could use your own Quirks in a spar too. Be creative and don't be afraid to speak up."

Deku finally dismissed Katsuki, so he took his place next to Kirishima again. Hair for brains was desperately trying not to laugh.

"That was…"

"Don't fucking start."

"Hilarious. I've never seen someone get the jump on you like that."

"Shut _up."_

"You're blushing. God, I wish the rest of the squad could've seen this. Maybe Aizawa filmed it."

"Deku may have beat me just now, but you sure as shit can't. Fuck off before I blast you into the next fucking millennium!" Katsuki could feel the heat on his face, but it had nothing to do with the embarrassment of getting his ass handed to him. He was blushing because, just before taking his place in the line of heroes, Deku smiled at him. A real Deku smile. A smile he hadn't been on the receiving end of since he was about ten years old.


	5. Time and Space

Murasaki Hebiko was one of two students in his homeroom with mutant Quirks. Part of his job description—in addition to supervising more than half of all the General Heroics classes—was basic Quirk counseling and running a third year elective course on Quirk analysis. He'd set up a fifteen minute session with every General Heroics student during lunch in the first few weeks of school. Murasaki was the last of the sessions.

"Have a seat, Murasaki. And feel free to eat your lunch. I promise I won't keep you here long. You know why you're here?"

Murasaki sat in the chair on the other side of his desk, the snakes in her hair swaying with the movement. Her purple slitted eyes crinkled when she gave a small, fanged smile.

"Yes. Hane-chan told me."

Haneyama Aoi was the other student in his class with a physical mutation. She had plumes of crested blue feathers instead of hair, and her nose was a sharp, blackened hook, much like a beak. Izuku was glad they'd found a friendship. Mutant heroes had a uniquely difficult time rising in the ranks. He was happy they'd be able to confide in each other when things inevitably got tough.

"Good. Do you have any questions for me before we get started?"

"Actually, yes. Um," she hesitated, looking uncomfortable, "Why are you the Quirk counselor if you don't have a Quirk?"

Izuku laughed. He'd had to answer this question to more than half of the students he met with.

"Well, Quirks fascinate me. I've been analyzing them for a long time, and I'm pretty good at it. Analysis is a big part of the work I do. It keeps me alive."

"Oh. That makes a lot of sense. My sister is a third year in one of your Quirk classes. She said—" Murasaki turned a deeper shade of purple, "Well, she said you're handsome, but she said you're class is the best! I want to take it when I'm in third year."

Izuku smiled tightly. He'd noticed all the attention he got from his third year female students. It was strange—not to mention inappropriate—and it made his male students snippy with him. He'd have to ask Aizawa what to do, but something told him Aizawa would be completely useless in such a matter.

"Anyway, let's get started. I know you've been struggling a bit with practical application in class. Have you had any breakthroughs you want to talk about? Or any concerns you have?"

"Well, my Quirk is so dangerous I have trouble using it on my classmates. I don't want to hurt them."

"That's a valid concern. Let's try to work around that. Are you more concerned about poisoning your classmates when you bite them, or the biting itself?"

"Well, both. They go hand in hand. When I open my jaw wide enough," she paused and opened her mouth as wide as it would go. Izuku couldn't help but be unnerved by the gaping maw before him as she unhinged her jaw. She spoke again, with her mouth still widened, "The venom just comes out."

"So, don't bite people," Izuku said, simply. Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

"But that's my whole Quirk!"

"It's not. It's just your Quirk's most straightforward application."

"I don't understand."

"Have you heard of snake milking?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"Have you ever harvested your own venom?"

"My parents did it when I was younger. When my Quirk came in I was just drooling venom all the time."

Izuku nodded, fascinated. Murasaki had one of the strongest Quirks in the class, and it was without a doubt the most lethal.

"According to your records, your venom is a simple neurotoxin that paralyzes your enemies, and only life-threatening in large quantities. I've talked to Powerloader about the possibilities of weaponizing extracted venom as a means to subdue enemies. I think it would really help you."

"That would be great!" Murasaki beamed, her fangs glistening with excess venom. From what Izuku has observed during school hours, she wasn't one for smiling. He figured she'd probably scared one to many people with the sight of her fangs and learned her lesson. That reminded him of the other point he needed to make.

"Murasaki, can I ask why you chose General Heroics instead of the mainstream course?" After seeing her break the grip strength machine by locking her jaw around it during the Quirk Assessment, he had no doubt that she could've held her own against some of the exam robots. Had she taken the test, she would have succeeded.

He knew what kind of answer his line of questioning would yield. He just had to wait for her to bring it up so he could assess what level of self-deprecation he'd be dealing with. Her face fell.

"Heroes aren't supposed to be scary-looking."

"Alright. First of all, you're not scary-looking. That said, my job as your teacher is to prepare you for the world of Heroics, so I'm going to be honest with you." Izuku took a moment to heave a large sigh. _Here it comes, the hard truth._

"Mutant Quirk discrimination is very real. I don't doubt you've experienced it before."

Murasaki nods and keeps her eyes low, as if she's ashamed of something she has no control over. Izuku's righteous anger rises from the pit of his stomach.

"While I have no say in the things that happen out in the real world, if you ever experience anything at UA that makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, please come to me. I'll deal with it personally."

"Thank you, Sensei. You're a bit scary, you know that?"

"Intimidation can be beneficial. That's something you can use to your advantage with your looks. Eventually, you'll learn to turn it on and off. I'm here to give advice and help you mold your image as a hero. So is the Management course, but they can be a bit overbearing."

"Alright. I'll meet with Powerloader sometime soon. Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime. Enjoy the rest of your lunch period!"

They part ways outside the classroom. Izuku turned left to finish the lunch hour in the teacher's lounge. Izuku was having a good day. No, he was having a good week. That wasn't something too optimistic to point out, right? Admittedly, it was unusual for Izuku to be feeling so chipper. He couldn't remember a time when he felt like he was in the right place at the right time, but somehow every day he spent teaching at UA felt just like that. _Lucky,_ he thought as he moved down the hall with an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

For Izuku, being recognized as a hero was a constant battle for approval, but being a teacher? That was as easy as breathing. It was odd, feeling so well-placed, but he could get used to it. At twenty-five, Izuku finally felt like he found his place. He opened the door and stepped into the lounge, lost in his sunshiney thoughts. He was flying high. He felt—

Izuku froze. He felt—

He felt like that good cheer and all that pep in his step and every smile that'd flitted across his face during his foolishly optimistic week had come crashing down on his head with a suffocating weight.

Sitting in the lounge, manspreading across the couch like he owned it, was All Might. Smiling, skeletal All Might. The untouchable hero that very nearly killed his spirit.

And all of a sudden, Izuku is fifteen again, sobbing on a rooftop and clutching his chest.

His chest—

His chest was...collapsing. His lungs were drying up like bitter prunes in his chest. There's no air. Not in his lungs or in the teacher's lounge, that suddenly looked so much smaller.

He had enough presence of mind—it's a shred of sanity left, really—to know he's having a panic attack. He's clutching at the high neck of his hero suit, tugging the suffocating fabric away from his skin. He was trying to _breathe_ goddamnit. All Might was suddenly in front of him.

_He's so tall._

He's so tall that Izuku must've gone back in time. He must've really shrunk. He was fifteen again and even though he's shriveled and sickly he's still larger than life.

No, nevermind. He's not fifteen, he's twenty-five and at work and he has collapsed in the doorway of the teacher's lounge like an absolute idiot and All Might was standing over him and that made everything so much _worse._

All Might was kneeling before him and asking if he was alright. His bone thin fingers stretched toward Izuku, pausing awkwardly in the air before drawing back slightly, and then finally grasping Izuku's shaking shoulder. It's probably supposed to be comforting but it felt like a shackle.

"Quirkless." All Might's voice still sounded the same. Booming. Unreal. And somewhere inside him, Izuku knew All Might was just saying his name, but in the throes of panic it sounded more like a jeer, an accusation.

Somehow, it grounded him enough to get himself standing. He took a deep, shuddering breath and vacated the lounge on wobbly legs. He found Aizawa, uncharacteristically awake, and told him he was sick and he had to leave.

"Midoriya," Aizawa said, in that calm cadence that never wavered no matter what he was feeling. It was too much for Izuku and his unraveling sanity.

"I have to go. I have to go. Ask Midnight to sub for me."

It was all he could manage to say before he left the campus, dialing Shindo's number by memory only to have it go straight to voicemail. He does this three more times before he gave up. He was probably working. Izuku should be working, but he tucked tail and ran away like a loon. Aizawa would be mad. He would most likely demand an explanation and pretend not to be concerned. Concern was by far the worst emotion Izuku could ever see in anyone's eyes.

Katsuki finished his patrol much later than expected and it threw off his whole night. Katsuki was a stickler about his schedule. It was inevitable that his schedule got shifted from time to time in his line of work, but he always felt a little thrown when he hadn't eaten dinner by 9:30. He liked to be in bed by 9:30 most nights. He didn't want to spend over an hour cooking, no matter how much he enjoyed it, and risk ruining tomorrow by getting too little sleep.

That's how he found himself picking up a shitty burger at the pub near his agency. His hair was still wet from the hasty shower he'd taken at the agency, and he was looking less than impressive in his gym sweats, an old All Might shirt, and his shabby socks and slides. This would be the worst possible time to run into Deku. So, of course, that's what happened.

Katsuki's waiting for his shitty to go box, and somehow Deku hasn't noticed him sitting three bar stools away from him. As if that weren't concerning enough, he looks like shit. His head was tipped down and his shoulders hunched. It was like looking at one of those missing persons composites where they took a picture of a kid and aged it up. It was eerie to see an older Deku holding the same pose he held when he was a kid, trying to hide from him and the rest of his middle school classmates. This time, though, Deku was clearly inebriated, which made it all the more pathetic. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, having his own internal battle on whether or not he should move across that insurmountable three bar stool divide and make himself known. Deku wouldn't appreciate it. He knew that much without having to think too hard on it. That didn't change the fact that Katsuki actually _wanted_ to talk to him. To make sure he was okay, or at least coherent enough to get himself home.

His one-sided staring contest was interrupted by the bartender placing his bagged takeout box on the counter in front of him.

_Now or never, I guess._ Katsuki took a deep breath and moved into the stool next to Deku. Katsuki didn't speak. He didn't want to be the one to break the silence. Let Deku come to him.

Deku looked up from his drink—something dark that smelled like rubbing alcohol from where he sat—with hazy eyes. The recognition was immediate. Like whiplash, Deku sat up straight, threw a generous wad of yen notes on the bar top and hastily leapt off the stool he seemed fused to only moments before.

"That's my cue to leave," he said, his voice a jolly slur.

Katsuki watched him go on shaky legs, only waiting a beat before he grabbed his sack of food and followed him out.

Deku looked surprisingly spry for how drunk he was. He wasn't walking in a perfectly straight line, but he seemed to march with an almost angry purpose. "Deku, slow down," Katsuki said. Deku made no reply; he only sped up.

He caught up easily, doing his best to keep a respectful distance between himself and Deku, but Deku kept veering off and bumping into him every now and then. Every time Katsuki put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and every time Deku shook it off like it physically burned him. It left a bad taste in his mouth. It made him remember that Katsuki _has_ burnt him before.

"Leave me alone," he grumbled.

"You've been drinking. Just— let me make sure you get home safe."

"I literally live like ten minutes from here. I don't need you. I'm not useless," Deku snapped, leveling Katsuki with a glare that could give Katsuki's a run for its money. He started to walk faster, clearly trying to ignore the fact that Katsuki was walking next to him. Eventually, Deku slowed down, unable to maintain his furious, drunken march down the empty sidewalk. Katsuki wanted to start a conversation, but he figured it was a bad idea to draw attention to himself. He managed to walk him home—despite Deku's vehement and numerous rejections to the idea along the way.

He lived on the first floor of a section of nice apartments on the corner lot of a quiet street. It really was a short walk, and Katsuki was a little shocked that Deku actually let him walk all the way up to his door.

"You can go now," Izuku said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and crankily jamming the right key into the lock after two tries.

"Are you okay?" Katsuki blurted. Every time he saw Deku again he was introduced to a new side of him. This one worried him.

"You have _everything._ Why can't you just let me have a little _peace?"_

"What are you on about?" Katsuki said, just outside the threshold of Izuku's apartment. Izuku flung the door open and walked through it, leaving the door wide. It was hardly an invitation inside, but since Deku continued to yell at him from his living room, Katsuki stepped in and closed the door from prying eyes.

"You! You keep inserting yourself in my life again and again and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling like this."

Deku walked into the kitchenette. It was separated from the living room by an unassuming kitchen island that Deku proceeded to throw all of his belongings on with angry little flourishes.

"Like what? I thought we called a truce."

"A truce is agreeing to be civil when we're thrown together. Not walking me home because you think I'm drunk and pathetic." Deku was waving his arms around like someone bordering on a mental break. He pulled a bottle of cheap vodka out of his freezer and haphazardly uncapped it.

"I don't think you're pathetic—Deku, why are you drinking that? _Jesus_—You told me I didn't know you anymore and I'm trying. I don't get it!"

"I shouldn't have to lay my trauma at your feet for you to fucking _get it_. You were _there,"_ Deku said between wincing swigs of alcohol.

"I didn't—" _I didn't realize what I was doing to you._

"Didn't what? Think about what you were doing? Didn't give a shit? You probably don't even remember."

"I—"

"Of course you don't remember. You're so self-centered. And even after everything I _still_ saved you. What a fucking waste," Deku said, rubbing his eyes. He'd put the bottle of vodka down, which was only mildly comforting. Katsuki was at a loss for words. If there was a word for being sad and angry at the same time he couldn't think of it now. How much had Izuku had to drink already? He didn't seem that drunk—just livid and spiteful and itching to hurt something.

"You don't mean that." Katsuki couldn't even be mad, he was too _hurt._ No one ever spoke to him like he was trash, a waste, _worthless._

Is this how Deku felt all his life? _Useless?_ Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was only experiencing a fraction of the pain he'd inflicted on Deku when they were kids. Maybe it was selfish to keep showing up in his life. Katsuki wanted to be there, by his side—be _with_ him, some unwelcome voice whispered in the back of his head—but Deku wanted nothing to do with him.

"I don't. But I should."

Something like relief and guilt pinched in his gut. Deku was too good of a person to hate him. No matter how angry and flawed Deku had become, the kid he used to be was still in there. Even if it was buried under hostility and bad coping mechanisms.

"I'm sorry," he said, the word uselessly hung between them and fluttered to the floor. What could _sorry_ do to undo years of the ugly, tangled up emotions between the two of them. Deku was silent for a time, and it chilled Katsuki to the bone. There was nothing pleasant about that silence.

"For what?" He fixed him with a cold stare.

"For everything."

Deku scoffed. "You don't remember a thing."

"I remember you cried when I started calling you Deku. I'm sorry for that."

"Useless. Quirkless. Defenseless Izuku. You're only sorry now because I don't let that shit fly anymore," Deku said, he ran his hand on the rim of the bottle in front of him before he took another angry swig. Was that true? Katsuki didn't give much thought to the reasoning behind the things he'd been feeling in the last few months—he just felt them.

"That's not true. I don't think so anyway." He moved hesitantly toward the counter that separated them and took the bottle out of Deku's grasp.

Deku was silent again. The pauses in conversation felt so suffocating he found himself scrambling to speak, to fill them up.

"I see you now and something in me feels empty. Your life is so _full._ I never realized how dull my life was until I saw yours." Katsuki thought of a comet again. The only colorful thing in the dark sky. A screaming ball of light that torpedoed straight into his soul. And then he thought of the person he was looking at right then. Deku was less like a comet and more like the meteor that fell from the sky, leaving a gash in the earth, fire and chaos in its wake.

Deku was hugging himself, hunched over like he would physically split in two if he let go. _Selfish_, he thought. Katsuki was hurting him still, this time with earnest words and affection—or the closest he'd ever come to expressing affection. And even in knowing that Deku was falling apart in front of him, he kept going. _So fucking selfish._

"I see you now and I think of all the things I know about you and all the things I don't and it makes me so angry because, you're right. And that's my fault."

Deku looked so exhausted. His eyes were shiny, but no tears escaped. He'd gotten better at keeping them at bay and something about that really bothered Katsuki. He wanted to move closer, to comfort him, but he didn't know the first thing about being soft and kind and comforting.

"What could you possibly want to know about me that badly?" Deku's voice was so small, broken.

"How'd you get your scar? And what's your beef with All Might? Why'd you move away?"

"Don't you have enough?" Deku asked, sounding like a little boy again despite the deep baritone of his voice. Katsuki didn't understand his question.

"You did this before. When we were kids. You knew so much about me and you used it all against me, took so much that I wasn't my own anymore."

"I'm sorry." Katsuki wondered how many times he'd have to say that before Deku believed him. He was starting to feel like he was ready to say it forever, on his knees, if that's what it took. Maybe Deku could see that in Katsuki's eyes because something in him changed. It was like he suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one hurting—like he realized that Deku could hurt Katsuki with his words too. And Deku wanted him to hurt.

"After everything… what you and All Might said to me that day, I begged my mom to put me in a new school. To get out of Musutafu. Even though we were broke and it was halfway through the school year already and I felt so guilty for asking, I had to get out. I was—" He took a deep, shaky breath, like he was trying not to let out a sob on accident. "I was determined to get out one way or another no matter what she said."

Katsuki lacked the context to make sense of everything he said. More questions bubbled to the surface.

"All Might talked to you?"

Deku nodded and his shiny eyes skimmed over Katsuki's incriminating shirt. The fabric practically burned where All Might's larger than life smile rested on his chest. For the first time since he'd started speaking, Katsuki thought that maybe he didn't want to hear anymore of what Deku had to say.

_Don't be a fucking coward. Don't back out now because it hurts to hear it._

"He told me I couldn't be a hero without a Quirk. Just like everyone else." He laughed so bitterly that he sounded a little hysterical. In that moment, if someone told him he was a villain, not someone who'd clawed his way to a respectable spot in the hero rankings, Katsuki would've believed it.

"And _you._" Deku's voice was so cold, Katsuki felt it bite his skin. "I saved you. After years of you calling me useless and singeing holes in my uniform and blowing up my notebook. After you told me to _kill myself_, I saved you. And I still got yelled at." Deku's eyes were glazed over, like he was reliving the past instead of leaning tiredly on the counter in his hero-salaried apartment.

Katsuki didn't know if he was more horrified by the fact that he'd ever said something so vicious, or the fact that he didn't remember ever saying it. He was crying now, fat tears flowing silently down his cheeks. He didn't like facing the person he used to be. He moved ever closer to the broken man in front of him, leaning across the counter to reach out to him—he'd hardly realized how close they were, unconsciously moving toward each other the whole time they spoke. Or maybe it was just Katsuki moving toward him, pulled into orbit around him, both unwilling and unable to stay away. If it weren't for that damn counter between them he'd probably chest to chest with him by now. There was always something between them.

"I'm so sorry, Izuku." It was nearly a whisper, but it would be hard for anyone not to hear the pain and longing and regret in his voice. Deku looked up out of the haze at his given name. When was the last time he'd called him by his real name? Over twenty years ago probably.

"Are you happy now, Kacchan? Can I go on with my life now?"

_I shouldn't have to lay my trauma at your feet._

He did it anyway because Katsuki pushed. _So goddamn selfish_.

"I want to fix this." He was pleading. Katsuki never begged for anything in his life, but he was begging for Izuku's forgiveness and he couldn't find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. He wanted to touch him, to wipe the tears that finally spilled over his lower lids and onto his scarred and freckled cheeks, and make him feel safe. He knew that was a disastrous idea, but he was selfish, terrible, and desperate. He rubbed away a tear that stubbornly clung to Izuku's cheek, testing. When Izuku did nothing, Katsuki allowed his hand to cup his cheek, his fingertips edging near his verdant hairline in an achingly affectionate gesture. His hair was grown out just long enough for the sides to begin curling again. Izuku sniffled, closed his eyes and turned his head away from Katsuki's palm.

"I think you should go," Izuku said, a breathy whisper.

"Yeah. Right," he said, a little dazed because even with the stupid fucking countertop between them they were so close and Deku's cheek was warm in his palm. Things were starting to come into focus for Katsuki. He was a selfish, disgusting excuse for a human being, but he could still change. He wanted to be selfless for Izuku—he had so much to make up for.

"Um, I don't want you to be alone. You should call Shindo. Or Uraraka."

That was considerate, right? He hated Shindo but he couldn't deny that he was a better friend to Izuku that Katsuki ever was. He would just have to live with the burning jealousy in his gut. Izuku gave a half-hearted smile as he walked Katsuki to the door, most likely more than ready to have him gone, "I'll be fine. I'm tough."

"Don't drink anymore, please."

Izuku nodded and said, "I won't. I don't usually. I just had a bad day." Izuku opened the door for Katsuki. He passed through it without another word. He'd already said far too much for one awful night.

"Hey, Kacchan," Izuku said, his soft voice permeating through the cool night air. Katsuki looked back at him. He was leaning against his door, almost hiding behind it. He waited for Izuku to speak, his hands in his pockets.

"I think I needed this. I'll never thank you for bulldozing your way in here and making me spill my guts, but it feels good to have it out in the open, to let go of some of that anger."

"I'd hardly call that bulldozing. You left the door wide open."

Katsuki wanted to feel good about that, but it was a far cry from something he should be proud of. Still, it felt like an olive branch. A real truce, not just playing at one. Izuku remained silent, leaning further on the door, as if to close it.

"Izuku, can I see you again?" Now that he knew how profoundly hurt Izuku was by Katsuki's careless nickname for him, he could never say it again. Truthfully, it felt good to call him by his first name. Intimate, even. It sent a thrill up his spine. Like those lab rats that kept pushing a button to feel something, he wanted to keep saying Izuku's name. Izuku looked down, frowning slightly.

"I need space, Kacchan." The door closed, another wall between them.

Right. Time and space. Comets only come around every once in a while. He just hoped his comet didn't burn out.


	6. There's No Air in Space

AUGUST

Izuku woke up to the sound of jangling keys and opening doors. His head was pounding, his mouth a desert. He felt so shitty that for one sleepy second, he thought that if he was somehow about to be attacked or robbed at gunpoint in his own home, well, that was just the way it was. Of course, that was silly. There was only one person with a set of keys to his apartment. His heart fluttered weakly.

He could see his familiar silhouette, tall and lean and so welcome. Shindo made his silent approach, and upon noticing Izuku was awake, he knelt down at his bedside.

"How are you here?" Izuku mumbled in the bleary dark.

"Three calls in two minutes is never a good sign," Shindo murmured. His hand on his cheek was a comfort, however small. This was why Shindo was… whatever he was to Izuku. Only Shindo would take a four hour train ride into the city after a patrol because he called him one too many times. Only Shindo made him feel like he was something worthy and precious.

At times like this, Izuku could see himself loving Shindo. Loving him the right way. The way it was when you gave someone everything you are. The way it was when you loved yourself just as much as you loved the person you're with, just as much as they loved you.

At times like this, Izuku couldn't help but cry. He couldn't say _you didn't need to come, _or _I'm fine._ All he said was, "Thank you."

Shindo stripped to his boxers easily and climbed into his side of the bed. He knew he'd probably left straight from work with only the clothes on his back. He'd be in Izuku's clothes all weekend—or for however long he stayed—even though none of them fit quite right. Something about that made Izuku feel good and guilty in equal measure.

It wasn't long before he pulled Izuku into him, his cold chest pressing into his back with the comforting weight of his arm caging his waist. So often when they laid like that it felt oppressive, a real cage that Izuku didn't want to be in. He didn't want to be Quake's Quirkless boyfriend or the lesser part of a hero couple. He lived too much of his life under other people's definitions of him. He wanted to be his own person with his own accomplishments, and he was. He knew he was, but it was hard to remember that when the first question a reporter asked him after taking down a major crime syndicate, or starting a charity foundation for homeless youths was, "How's Quake? What's the status of your relationship now that you live and work in two different cities?"

But that night, his cage was a comfort. A small, secret thing that belonged to the two of them. It wasn't oppressive, it was the only thing for miles tethering him to safety out in deep space. Shindo was his own kind of force and gravity and the pull of it felt just right. Maybe tomorrow it would feel crushing. Maybe tomorrow he would tell him he was fine. He didn't want to think about tomorrow. He sighed when Shindo kissed his hair and squeezed him tighter. They fell asleep tangled together, a gilded cage of limbs.

FEBRUARY

"Are you okay? You're moodier than usual," Ashido said, sliding into the bright red booth across from Katsuki. For some reason they always met at a kitschy 50's style American diner. The food wasn't the worst, but the atmosphere was annoying. Sero and Kaminari slid in after her, squishing closely together while Kirishima sat next to Katsuki. It wasn't often that they all got to hang out together despite most of them—Sero being the only exception—living and working in the same city. This was the first time in months they all had a free Friday night and a day off Saturday. Ashido was usually on some late-night show or other, while Sero and Kaminari usually spent their free time with their significant others. It just so happened that both Iida and Jiro were busy that night. Kirishima was pretty unencumbered when he wasn't at the gym, much like Katsuki. He'd noticed things about Kirishima lately that he never would've seen if Izuku's voice wasn't always ringing in his ears like a mantra. _You're so self-centered_.

He'd started to notice that Kirishima, much like Katsuki, was pining for someone. He figured he was trying to keep his schedule open, should a certain pink hero call on him.

"I'm…" Katsuki started to say _fine_, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth _fine _turned into, "Shitty."

Everyone at the table went silent, their eyes blown a little wide as they took turns looking from Katsuki to each other. This went on for several seconds before Katsuki snapped.

"_What?_"

Everyone jumped. Ashido, as per usual, was the bravest at the table, and therefore the first to speak.

"You never actually tell us when you're not okay. It's…"

"Terrifying," Sero finished for Ashido.

"Shit must really be hitting the fan if Bakugo Katsuki isn't okay," Kaminari said, loudly sucking on the straw of his milkshake.

"What's wrong, man?" Kirishima asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern. Katsuki instantly regretting being a whiny dumbass.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Any of you ever meet that Quirkless hero?"

Everyone at the table seemed taken aback by the subject change, but didn't call him on it. Everyone at the table, besides Sero, shook their heads.

"He's good friends with Iida and Uraraka. I've met him a few times," Sero said. Katsuki's head whipped up so fast to stare at Sero his neck cracked. How had Katsuki never made that connection? _Of course_ he would know Iida's friends. He was too stunned by his own stupidity to play it cool.

"When's the last time you saw him? How is he?"

Katsuki hadn't heard from Izuku in six months, and he was trying to respect his needs. Time and space. Katsuki was suffocating on time and space like backwards claustrophobia and nothing he did could fix it, especially since Izuku's social media presence had dwindled in the previous months. Was it because he was just busy teaching, or was something wrong? At this point, he'd rather see a post of Izuku and Shindo full-on making out than have no update at all. Well, actually no, he didn't want that in the least.

"Maybe a month ago. Why?" Sero asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Don't tell me you're crushing on Quirkless too?" Ashido squealed. _Too?_

"Hah?" Was all Katsuki could say while he was trying not to snarl at her.

"He's so _cute._ I mean, I'm not, like, _interested_, but all I'm saying is I have a full celeb-hero crush on him. Like, I'm one fluff article away from cosplaying him and asking for his autograph at the next HeroCon, you know?"

Both Katsuki and Kirishima wore twin frowns. Katsuki was feeling possessive, Kirishima was probably feeling jealous.

"He's not that great, is he?" Kirishima asked, trying and failing to maintain his sunny disposition. Ashido didn't seem to notice and Kaminari looked apologetic. He could feel the waves of sympathy coming off him, trying to comfort his friend. Just then, the waitress brought their food to their table, everyone thanked her, but didn't jump back into their conversation until she left.

"No, he's pretty great. One of the nicest guys I've ever met. You know how sometimes you meet a hero and think _wow, you're not as cool as you seem on TV_?" He had a laser focus on his burger, so he didn't see the pained look on Kirishima's face.

"You mean how most people feel when they meet Bakugo?" Kaminari asked, his mouth too full with fries. Kaminari was lucky Katsuki was determined to be a better person or he would've lunged across the table and knocked him the fuck out.

"Yeah, exactly. Except Midoriya is _better. _He's so smart and mature, and like, _real_, I guess. Like, everything he says and does is genuine."

That didn't surprise Katsuki in the least. It didn't take long for him to realize that Izuku was only angry and impolite around Katsuki. To everyone else, he was as kind as he was when he was three years old and he shared all his snacks with Katsuki. A small, fond smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh my god, you _are_ crushing on Quirkless!" Ashido pointed an accusatory finger in Katsuki's face. Before Katsuki could defend himself, Kaminari squawked like a particularly annoying bird.

"Someone write down the time and date, this is a momentous occasion! Bakugo Katsuki having a crush on anyone is unprecedented!" He banged his hands on the table for emphasis.

"Isn't he… you know, with Quake?" Ashido asked, looking to Sero for confirmation. Sero shrugged, digging into his burger.

"Will you idiots _shut up?_ Everyone is staring at our table," Katsuki grumbled, ducking down in the booth.

"We're all top 20 pros. They were already staring, hon," Ashido said, nonchalant as ever.

"What's going on, Bakugo?" Kirishima asked, softer. He put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing. I just...used to know him. Was wondering how he's doing," Katsuki said gruffly, an embarrassing flush creeping up his neck. Kirishima gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze that said _we'll talk later._

"I forgot you grew up in the same neighborhood. You'd think it'd be a better known fact, or at least more talked about," Sero said thoughtfully. Everyone at the table made various sounds of affirmation, but Sero continued, "I think he's homesick, to tell you the truth. Missing his support system."

"Maybe you should call him, Bakugo! And get me an autograph!" Ashido said, utterly unhelpful.

"Maybe," Katsuki said, noncommittal and fully regretting ever bringing him up.

"Quake is gonna kill you." Kaminari snickered. Ashido squeaked out a laugh.

_As if he could beat me, _Katsuki thought, before shutting the conversation down completely.

"Alright, enough. Fuck off and eat your food."

—

Just over twenty four hours after hanging out with his friends, Katsuki was heading to work. He walked by a vendor just outside of the train station when something green caught his eye. A photo. Katsuki's eyes bugged out of his head at the offensive tabloid and the highly edited photos plastered on the front cover. He ripped the shitty magazine off the shelf and flipped it open to read the slanderous blurb under what looked to be his and Izuku's preschool class photo. Their faces were the only ones not blurred and pixelated.

_**PINING PROS?**_

_Sources tell us that notoriously withholding #5 Pro Hero Ground Zero may be smitten with the #29 Pro Hero turned UA professor. Quirkless has long been rumored to be in a relationship with the #18 Pro Hero, Quake, since their days in Ketsubutsu. However, Ground Zero shares a connection with Quirkless that, though lesser known, spans much farther back in time. Could there be a love triangle brewing in the upper echelons of hero society? __**Read more on page 17!**_

Katsuki, so shocked he'd abandoned all sense, started to walk away with the magazine. He only took about three dazed steps before the vendor snapped at him.

"You better pay for that!" And then upon realizing who he was, added in a much smaller voice, "Sir."

Katsuki put some crumpled notes on his cart and walked away without his change.

The second he walked into the agency, all conversation stopped. A fair few of his coworkers were holding the same tabloid he was, and when he looked at them they scrambled to hide it. He hadn't even taken off his coat before Kirishima was at his desk.

"I'm really not in the mood," Katsuki said, doing his best not to lash out at his best friend.

"Yeah, I know. You're trending on Tweeter. I figured I'd tell you since you never go online."

There was a reason he never went online (his obsessive stalking of Izuku's profiles notwithstanding). Shit like that crappy tabloid burning a hole in his coat pocket was the reason he never went online. Katsuki signed.

"So, is it true?" Kirishima asked, going for nonchalance, but completely missing the mark. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at his perpetually pleasant friend.

"Did you really just ask me that?"

"Well, yeah. You've been all funky for months. And you asked about him at dinner the other night."

"That dinner is exactly why this bullshit is trending. Fucking Ashido and her loud mouth." Katsuki threw himself in his desk chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. What did Izuku think of all this? He logged into Tweeter on his desktop even though it was technically against agency policy and clicked to the trending topics page. Kirishima pulled a chair over to sit beside him. He couldn't be bothered to tell him to fuck off because with every hashtag he read on the screen he felt a creeping sense of dread.

_**#PrayforQuakeless**_

_**#groundless**_

_**#QuirkZero**_

_**#BakugoKatsuki**_

_**#GroundZero**_

_**#Quirkless**_

_**#MidoriyaIzuku**_

_**#notMYship**_

_**#boylove**_

_**#LGBTQHeroes**_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. He's going to think I'm a fucking psycho." Katsuki blew out an exhausted breathe and dragged his hands down his face. Kirishima chose that moment to intervene.

"Okay, this isn't helping." He closed out the browser and dragged Katsuki to his feet. Under normal circumstances, Katsuki would never allow himself to be dragged anywhere. There was nothing normal about this. In all his years as a pro, Katsuki had kept a tight lid on any and all personal information about himself. And now, all of Japan was adding their two cents in about his crush and his sexual orientation. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Izuku in months and now their names were linked together in 1.4 million tweets. This was the opposite of giving him space.

Kirishima pulled him into the first floor bathroom, and before closing the door, he plucked an out of order sign from behind the trashcan and stuck it on the front of the door. The lock bolted with a satisfying clink.

"Why do you have an out of order sign?"

"Mina and I make out in here sometimes—oh, wow, you're so lucky she's off today, or this would be, like, ten times worse for you."

"_The fuck?"_

"That's kind of a long story. Let's stay on topic. So, Quirkless."

"Fuck, no. You can't tell me you're hooking up with Racoon Eyes _at work_ and not elaborate." Katsuki crossed his arms and leaned on the sink.

"Well, the short version is It's a recent development. I haven't asked her out yet. We're keeping a low profile."

"There's nothing low profile about Ashido Mina. That was her way of asking you out, dipshit."

Kirishima's sharky mouth turned into a perfect _o_ as he thought about it. Katsuki wanted to laugh at the dumb expression. Instead, he threw his friend a bone.

"It's pretty obvious you're in love with her. Just go for it…. Preferably, not in this bathroom, though."

Kirishima smiled. "Yeah, the ambiance here isn't exactly romantic. How are you so good at giving relationship advice in the midst of your own gay panic?"

Katsuki punched him in the arm, and Kirishima was a good enough sport to take it and not activate his Quirk.

"So, Quirkless," he said, trying again to bring the conversation around to Katsuki.

"He's a person that I know," Katsuki said, looking away.

"No shit. Figures you'd have a crush on the only guy I've ever seen beat your ass."

"It's not a crush," Katsuki grumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. It wasn't a crush. It was way more than that. Crushes weren't supposed to feel the way Katsuki felt. He felt like the sky was falling in slow motion when he thought about Izuku. He missed him. He'd found himself unable to sleep at night because he was too busy picking through his memories for morsels of Izuku.

"Maybe you should take your own advice, man. Just go for it. Or maybe you should push him into a bathroom stall and ask if he wants to kiss you." Kirishima smiled, thinking of some recent memory, no doubt.

Katsuki gave him a withering look. For the sake of thinking about kissing him, he entertained the idea for a second. Izuku would break his arms. The thought almost had him grinning, if not for Kirishima's watchful eyes.

"We're not like that. We're not even friends."

"Maybe that's where you should start," Kirishima said simply, softly.

"It's not that easy."

"Maybe not, but when have you ever gone for the easy things in life?"

—

Izuku sat on the floor in front of his living room trying to separate all the puzzle pieces that looked like the outer edges of the night sky. His new therapist suggested it. Well, he was hardly new at that point. He'd been with this therapist for about four months. After his All Might-induced panic and the subsequent fallout, Shindo convinced him that making monthly treks out to his old therapist wasn't enough.

Before he'd moved back to Musutafu, he'd met with his therapist once a week since he was fifteen. Clearly, without the structure of weekly sessions, Izuku was backsliding. Or, at least, that's what Shindo thought. And when Shindo had an opinion he made needling comments until Izuku decided to take it as fact just to shut him up. So, there he was, doing a thousand piece puzzle of the Milky Way at his new and condescending therapist's behest.

He was loathe to admit it, but he actually liked doing the puzzles. It gave him a break from thinking in circles. It allowed him to step outside of himself and his problems and focus on finding perfect piece after piece until he was done. He found he was good at puzzles. Shindo was pretty good at them too. They had a system. Izuku would gather the sky and Shindo would gather the earth and they'd build until they met in the middle. Sometimes that felt good. Sometimes the creep of annoyance nestled its way in Izuku's heart until all he felt were the bars of the cage.

He'd tried to explain the cage to his new therapist, Dr. Shimada, once. Dr. Shimada might be good at suggesting leisure activities, but he knew fuck all about being comforting or helpful when it came to Izuku's problems. Izuku fit another piece of space in its rightful place when Shindo came through the door with the grocery bags.

For all his annoyance, Izuku was feeling more endeared to Shindo than ever before. There was something to be said about the fact that Shindo dropped everything for him that night. And even more to be said about the fact that Izuku hadn't turned him away. They'd fallen back into the easy crutch of each other. Shindo spent all his consecutive days off in Izuku's apartment, playing house and making sure he was eating and sleeping and taking his anti-anxiety meds. And Izuku was trying to be a fraction as loving toward Shindo as he always was to him.

Shindo dropped the groceries on the counter with more force than necessary.

"What's wrong?" Izuku asked, looking up from the holes he'd been trying to fill in the galaxy. It didn't take a genius to know that Shindo was pissed off.

Shindo sat in front of him on the other side of the puzzle and dropped a magazine on top of it. It displaced some of his pieces, flipping them over to the dull cardboard underneath. The annoyance pricked in his skull.

"What is this?" Shindo asked, his voice hard.

"A gossip rag?" A gossip rag with his face on it, actually. Izuku flipped the cover open and read the blurb under his preschool photo.

"What the fuck, Izuku," he said. He said it like a sigh. Like he was so exhausted. Like he was so tired of giving all his love to someone who didn't deserve it.

"You know we grew up together. I don't understand why you're so upset." Izuku pressed his thumb over the tiny, green haired Izuku on the glossy page, as if he were a smudge to rub off.

"Is the rest of it true?" Shindo looked less angry, the line of his shoulders hunching.

"Of course not. I haven't talked to him since December." Izuku flipped to page fourteen where the rest of the article was written. He skimmed it for the pertinent gossip that clearly had Shindo so upset. There was hardly anything. It was mostly highlighting the fact that Bakugo knew him before Shindo ever did. It was full of speculation, sure, but it almost explicitly stated that he was in a relationship with Shindo.

"I didn't even know you were talking to him."

Izuku looks up from the magazine at Shindo and he looks so hurt. He shouldn't look like that. Not over him.

"He apologized for being an ass. It's not the declaration of love this article makes it out to be," he said, and somehow it felt like a lie. He remembered the way Bakugo cupped his cheek. He remembered the way he called him by his name and it sounded the way a caress feels. Smooth and soft and warm. He remembered asking for space because he was reeling and his fractured friendship was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"I just—it seemed like things were going so well with us. Like—" Shindo cut himself off, but Izuku could almost hear the rest of the sentence.

_Like you love me. Like we're together for real._

Izuku leaned across the galaxy and cupped Shindo's face in his hands.

"Yo," he said, because he didn't know what else to say and he didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to think about the jumble of bullshit bouncing around in his head that the tabloid dredged up. His lips crashed into Shindo's. He didn't want soft or loving. He didn't want space. He refused to think about anything else but the pressure of his mouth against Shindo's, open and willing to reciprocate.

Fuck space. Fuck the puzzle and intimacy and his therapist and Aizawa's troubled gaze and Kacchan's confusing little crush and the cage of Shindo's love. Izuku didn't need any of that. He needed control. That was the last thing he thought before he laid Shindo down on the vast, disjointed pieces of the Milky Way and pulled his shirt over his head.


	7. One Giant Leap

APRIL

Izuku stared at the roses on his counter, like he was trying to decipher a coded message, and the clues were hidden among the offending crimson petals. What on earth would possess Shindo to send him these? They hadn't spoken much in the last two weeks—whether it be more from a fight they'd had, or the fact that the agency Shindo worked at found themselves unexpectedly understaffed, and thus, he'd been incredibly busy, Izuku couldn't say. But roses? With a card that said _I miss you so much?_

It was overkill by a long shot, and it irked Izuku to no end. It felt like an omen, a rain cloud hanging over the one night Shindo was able to get off work to come visit. He'd told him repeatedly that he didn't need to come—and that seemed to bother Shindo, so they'd no doubt already be in a bit of a fight by the time he arrived in the city. One night was nothing when you factor in the travel time. It wasn't worth it, but if Shindo missed him _that much_, Izuku figured nothing he said would deter him.

Izuku often felt like there were two Shindos: Boyfriend Shindo and Best Friend Shindo. Boyfriend Shindo was clingy and overly affectionate in a way that made Izuku itch. Boyfriend Shindo was jealous of just about any guy Izuku expressed any kind of fondness for, however small or seemingly inconsequential. Boyfriend Shindo was possessive, and liked to bring up Bakugo Katsuki for no apparent reason other than to start a fight that'd inevitably end in a stalemate.

He'd recently spent an entire therapy session on this topic, and Dr. Shimada was visibly was less than enthused to play the role of a couples counselor. It was his job to be impartial, but something about the way he seemed to stick up for Shindo led him to believe that his therapist somehow liked Shindo more than Izuku without ever meeting him. He'd never felt like his choices were being attacked with his old therapist. Nowadays, he felt like he was constantly defending himself. Dr. Shimada had asked him on multiple occasions to get to the root of why he was so against being in a relationship with Shindo, and Izuku had always been quick to clarify that he didn't want to be in a relationship with _anyone._

The only pearl of wisdom Izuku was able to glean from that disastrous session was that he realized that he only wanted to have sex with Best Friend Shindo—and wasn't that a conundrum?

—

Katsuki spent the last hour of his patrol shift getting patched up by Recovery Girl—can't have a top hero missing patrol shifts to let something as inconsequential as three broken ribs heal—so he was near the campus, and feeling too drowsy from the healing to even think of cooking his own dinner. As he walked to the pub near Izuku's apartment once again, Katsuki couldn't help but entertain the thought of seeing him. He was trying not to think about him, but it'd been far too long, and the smallest notion of hope kindled in his chest. He'd given Izuku space, but he was starting to wonder if all that space would turn back into estrangement.

And then he was there, sitting at the same stool as last time, looking only marginally less pathetic. Katsuki was struck by how _happy_ he was to see that familiar head of bushy hair, all the drowsiness and pain and frustration he'd felt throughout the day no longer an issue. He wasted no time sliding into the stool next to him. Izuku looked up, and Katsuki was happy to find that he didn't look nearly so out of it as last time, though his cheeks had a nice, rosy beer blush that did things to Katsuki's stomach.

"Oh, it's you," he said, a little off-handedly, and Katsuki must've frowned or something because Izuku immediately added, "I mean, hi, it's nice to see you."

"Were you expecting someone else?" Katsuki hedged, feeling like an idiot. Had he interrupted something?

"No, not really. I'm just finishing up," Izuku said, giving his half-empty bottle of beer a little shake.

"How are you?" Katsuki blurted, hoping to keep his attention, so he didn't down his drink and run off. He cleared his throat, and tried for a more measured cadence. "Sero mentioned a while ago that you were a little homesick."

"Homesick." Deku chuckled and took a large sip of his drink. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"What's the not so nice way of putting it?" Katsuki asked. Izuku was silent for a moment, mulling over his response.

"I feel like I'm drowning and instead of throwing me a life vest, he's throwing me… I don't know, what's the least useful thing to have on the open water?" Izuku asked, needing help to finish his lofty metaphor.

"Chum? Dumbbells?" Katsuki supplied as best he could. Just then a waitress came by, and he'd hastily ordered the first thing he saw on the menu, so as not to break the spell of pleasant conversation that had fallen over them.

"Roses," Deku muttered, something of a bitter edge coloring the word. He looked sad for a moment, but then he laughed as he realized his metaphor went completely off the rails.

"Who? Shindo?"

"Guessed it in one. Maybe you do know me better than I thought." Deku was being sarcastic, but Katsuki's stomach still flipped at the suggestion. It was not lost on him that this was the most civilized conversation they'd ever shared. Katsuki felt like he was _glowing._

"What's the deal with you two anyway?" Katsuki asked, in as nonchalant a way as he could manage.

"You really want to hear about my relationship with Shindo? I thought you hated him."

"I definitely hate him."

Izuku guffawed at the bold statement, his hand falling from around his beer to the bar top.

"I enjoy your honesty sometimes, Kacchan."

"Wish I could say the same. You're good at deflecting."

Izuku fixed him with an amused look, never breaking eye contact despite the fact that he titled his drink to his lips.

"You just missed him, you know. He left before we got into a spectacularly public fight. What we are… well, it's not really straightforward."

Katsuki waited, hoping for more, but refusing to betray too much interest.

"We're not together but we've definitely dabbled in dating-like behavior. I didn't realize how codependent we were until I came here." Izuku looked down, a little wistful, scratching along the wood grain of the bar. "He was so mad about that article."

Katsuki didn't even want to broach the subject of the article—the buzz it created had finally died down, and he refused to be the one to resurrect it. Instead, he pushed Izuku for a more definitive answer.

"So, not dating?"

"You know, that's the first suggestion when you Moogle my name? Whether or not I'm dating Quake is somehow the most important thing about me."

Katsuki did know that. He'd also read most of the search results, but he'd never cop to that.

"Happens to me too. It's just shipping bullshit. Apparently, I'm really compatible with Red Riot."

"Hashtag bakusquad," Izuku said with a small smile and a flourish. Katsuki got the feeling he was being made fun of, but he didn't mind it that much. Not when it was Izuku.

"So, you do follow my career," he said, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. The waitress appeared with his food, a burger and fries, and Izuku absently grabbed a fry from his plate. Katsuki wanted to implode from the uncharacteristically fuzzy feelings that small action induced.

"Not on purpose, Number 5. You've always been hard to ignore. Congrats on that, by the way. Nine to five in only a year is a huge jump."

Katsuki chuckled, picked up Izuku's beer in a fit of madness, and took an experimental sip from it, their eyes locked on each other's. Izuku gave him a wry smile and whispered, "Indirect kiss."

Katsuki choked, totally thrown off, and while he was coughing and trying to get his shit together, Izuku's smile was vibrant and triumphant. They were playing a game of chicken, and Izuku just won.

He was desperate to play it cool while all his brain cells were running around a burning room screaming phrases and obscenities at each other—phrases like _indirect kiss _and _you've always been hard to ignore_. Before Katsuki could think of a suave response, Izuku spoke again.

"That doesn't bother you? People thinking you're gay?"

Katsuki never openly came out to anyone. No one really ever made it worth his while, and the instinct to keep his life private went deep.

"Does it bother you?"

"No. But I'm actually gay, and actually sleeping with Quake."

"Well, same. Not the shit about Quake, obviously— I—" Katsuki flubbed his words. He wasn't expecting Izuku to outright admit anything about his relationship with Shindo.

"I get it, Kacchan," Deku said, his mouth a lazy smile around his beer bottle. He tipped it back to drink from it again. Katsuki hoped he wasn't a flustered, blotchy red, but the heat he felt all over gave him little assurance.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while Katsuki did his best to eat and compose himself. Izuku continued to steal fries off his plate, but Katsuki didn't dare sip from Izuku's beer again. He couldn't handle it. It was nice to not be working overtime to plug all the holes in the conversation.

"I follow your career too, you know," Katsuki said once he felt his body temperature was back to normal.

"I know. You like all my Winsta posts."

"My PR guy likes all your posts. I just look at them every now and then," Katsuki said, pointing a fry in his direction.

"Is that why your profile sucks so much? You've got a stranger running it?"

"Excuse me, but not all of us can get away with posting inspirational quotes and cappuccino artwork. That cutesy shit isn't really part of my brand."

"What is your brand?"

"Fucking shit up. Being a badass," Katsuki said in a very _duh_ fashion.

"Never being vulnerable," Izuku said, and his gaze seemed even more penetrating than usual. Katsuki thought that was rich coming from the only person he'd ever been vulnerable around. His bone-deep embarrassment about all the mushy things he said to Izuku the last time they saw each other still kept him up at night.

"I believe we were talking about your shitty life. Not mine."

"You told me my life was full. What did you mean by that? I've been wondering about it."

Katsuki was floored by the thought that maybe Izuku spent as much time staring at his ceiling thinking about Katsuki as Katsuki did thinking about him. Probably not, but a man could dream.

"I don't know. Well-rounded? Colorful. Happy."

"Ah, more adjectives. How helpful."

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

"Smartass. I'm not that good with words—that's why I pay some creepy basement dweller to manage my social media accounts."

Izuku laughed again. It was warm and loose. Katsuki hoped the one and only positive interaction they'd ever shared wasn't owed to the fact that Izuku was slightly drunk, but the hazy look in his eyes told him otherwise. Izuku held out his open palm.

"Give me your phone."

Without much thought Katsuki unlocked his phone and put it in Izuku's waiting hand. He watched as Izuku opened the camera app and held the phone at what he assumed was an optimal angle for selfies. Izuku made a peace sign and held it close to his cheek, his fingertips skimming along his scar. Without any sort of countdown, he snapped a few pictures. Katsuki managed a smirk in at least one of them.

After opening his Winstagram app, choosing a photo, and typing out a short caption, he posted the photo and put Katsuki's phone on the bar.

"There. Now you can give your PR guy the night off." Izuku hopped off the barstool, a little wobbly from the drinking, and gave Katsuki a rueful smile.

"I should probably go. Thanks for picking up my tab!"

"_Hah?"_

"Don't act like you don't make more than me, Number five. I'll see you around." He started to leave the bar before turning around and snapping his fingers, like he just remembered something vitally important.

"Send me those pictures!"

—

Katsuki didn't look at the post until he got home. It wasn't a bad picture; Izuku looked cute despite also looking a little drunk, and Katsuki didn't look bad either, but he clearly wasn't ready for the picture. He was just staring at Izuku the way someone might stare at a warm fire, like he was lulled by the light and warmth of the hearth. If not for the fact that it already had double the amount of likes and comments any of his usual posts got, he might've deleted it. The look Katsuki was giving Izuku was incriminating. It was a look he felt was reserved for time spent behind closed doors. The caption said, "Ran into an old friend at bar56 . officialquirkless #hometownheroes #thirstythursday."

_An old friend,_ Katsuki thought. He'd take that over bully or tormentor any day. He hoped this was a step in the right direction. He fell asleep that night, his phone pinging softly with Winstagram notifications and his head and heart full of Izuku Midoriya.

—-

Izuku didn't know why he did that. He thumbed through the pictures Kacchan sent him after Shindo fell asleep, and a flicker of guilt ignited in his gut. Maybe he did it to make Shindo angry—and, by god, was he angry when Izuku finally got home from the bar, but he was even more concerned because Izuku came home tipsy with plans to turn tipsy into drunk.

"You're not supposed to drink with your anxiety medication," Shindo said, his voice soft and placating. His gentle admonishments fell on deaf, angry ears. The concern needled at him, poking and prodding at him until he'd worked himself up into a bit of a rage.

"Please, don't mother me tonight," Izuku said uncharitably around the drink he'd just poured. It wasn't strong enough to burn, and Izuku found himself disappointed by that.

"I don't want to mother you. I'm sorry about earlier."

Izuku could hardly remember what exactly they'd argued about in the restaurant. Something stupid, to be sure. A build of stupid somethings that always hung over their heads until it toppled over and ruined their evening. Shindo stood behind him, his hands spreading over Izuku's shoulders, just shy of massaging him. His hands were warm as they caressed down his arms, leaving trails of gooseflesh in their path. Izuku did his best to ignore the way his body reacted to Shindo. He took another deep sip of his drink as Shindo kissed along the nape of his neck. Izuku tried to hide the fact that he shivered, but Shindo was too close not to notice. They knew each other too well to hide from each other, and that thought struck Izuku like a knife in the gut. He suddenly felt the need to cry frustrated tears. He hated that no matter how much they argued over petty nonsense, the cage persisted. On some level, Izuku wanted to remain in the cage because who else would ever know him like this? Who else would ever love him?

Izuku turned, unable to hold out any longer, his lackluster cocktail deposited on the countertop, and if Shindo noticed the wetness trailing down his cheeks, he was nice enough to ignore it. Izuku's hands made their way into Shindo's hair, and Shindo's hands wound deftly under the fabric of Izuku's shirt, his fingertips dancing lightly across his back. Shindo's mouth was soft and pleading, coaxing him into a place where they couldn't fight because they didn't use words. No matter how angry Izuku was, or how jealous Shindo got, or what shitty things they said to each other in the heat of the moment, they had this—and it was always perfect until it ended.

But it always ended eventually, and Izuku found himself equal parts guilty and selfishly satisfied. Sweaty and spent, Shindo fell asleep, the sheets still a messy tangle around them. And Izuku rolled away to look at the Winstagram post he made on Kacchan's profile. He really didn't know why he did that.

Maybe he just wanted to lean into a good moment, to memorialize it. He had so few good moments with Kacchan. It was nice to be on relatively good terms. Maybe it was because he was a bit drunk, and Kacchan had a nice smile—and the moment he thought that, Izuku did his best to scrub that fleeting thought from his mind. Maybe it was because when Izuku asked for space, Kacchan gave him months of it, and continued to give him that space in long, comfortable increments. Would Shindo give him space if he asked for it? Maybe. He wasn't so petty that he couldn't give Shindo the benefit of the doubt, but the cage squeezing on his heart begged to differ.

JUNE

Izuku's life was oddly quiet. School was great—his students were more than capable and ready for their internships. His therapist was still an asshole, but he'd found some solace in being surly with him instead of the other people in his life. He'd stopped talking about Shindo and his relationship phobia with Dr. Shimada entirely, and in doing so, things were a lot calmer between him and Shindo. His agency was working him more than ever, and that was, at the same time, both comforting and exhausting. Sleep, when it could be had, was fitful and dreamless.

Shindo had three days off and Izuku decided to go to him, since his students would be gone on their internships.

He hadn't been back to the country since he moved, and he was looking forward to some quiet time with his mom, and he was scheduled to do some guest training at Ketsubetsu on Monday. He was in high spirits, and so when found his way into Shindo's arms, he didn't hesitate to kiss him. Shindo seemed surprised by it, and a little uneasy.

"It's good to be back," Izuku said, nuzzling into the hollow of Shindo's throat, doing his best to coax a smile out of him. Shindo gave a hapless, breathy laugh, and kissed the top of his head.

"You're in a good mood," he said, and it sounded just shy of an accusation. Izuku let it go because Shindo's smile looked especially handsome.

"It's nice to be out of the city, and I'm excited to see my mom. Are you coming to dinner?"

Shindo shook his head. "I figured I'd give you your alone time. It's been a long time since you've seen her."

Izuku smiled. Even though his mom would probably be a bit sad to miss Shindo, he was happy they'd have time to themselves. After he'd placed his bag in Shindo's room, they went for a run on one of the trails nearby. Though it was July, the air was crisp and fresh in a way it never could be in the city. They kept a leisurely pace for most of the run. Shindo was uncharacteristically quiet, and that worried Izuku. They used to run together all the time, and it was always full of playful jabs and competitive jeering. Izuku felt, for the first time, how awkward Shindo must've felt around him when he was in one of his moods. He felt a need to be extra happy, to outwardly show his excitement in hopes that it might be contagious.

"Race back to the house?" Izuku asked, flashing him a winning smile.

"We playing for stakes?" Shindo seemed to perk up a bit. He pushed his hair out of his face and, after Izuku nodded in the affirmative, he smiled.

"What do I get when I win?"

Izuku looked around to make sure they were alone on the trail before he moved closer to Shindo. He looked wary of him, but in a cute, almost excited kind of way. Izuku cut into Shindo's personal space and planted a kiss on his sweaty cheek.

"Me!" And then he sprinted down the trail before Shindo could respond, laughing like a loon.

By the time they'd gotten off the trail and back on the street, Shindo was gaining on him, defaming him as a cheater. Izuku was too breathless from the sprint to defend himself. They were nearly neck and neck when they turned the corner to the street his house was on, and if Izuku could breath, he'd be pouting about losing such a large lead.

"I'm gonna get you." Shindo huffed, and Izuku noticed the double meaning. He was downright giddy, whether it be from the endorphins or the thrill of the chase, he couldn't say. He didn't care, either. He just loved feeling this way.

Izuku could feel Shindo right behind him, but he was so close to the house. Right before he crossed through the gate to claim his victory, Shindo grabbed him. It was unexpected, to say the least, and exceptionally graceless. Izuku was hardly off the ground before their feet got all tangled up. Shindo tripped and they fell to the grass in his yard. Izuku took the brunt of the fall, and what little breath he had was knocked out of him. To add insult to injury, Shindo landed on top of him. They were cracking up as much as they could, given how winded they were. Somehow, it was a perfect moment. Shindo kisses him, rather sloppily, but it hardly mattered as sweaty and dirty as they were. It wasn't exactly appropriate, Shindo lived on a pretty populated street. Anyone could see them. With that clarity, Izuku turned his head to break the kiss.

"Someone might see us," he whispered, though he didn't move to extricate himself from his prone position underneath him.

Shindo sighed and rolled over to lay next to Izuku. He put a hand over his eyes, and said, "Right."

They lay like that for a long time, until their ragged breath went back to normal. Izuku was the first to get up, and in spite of the soreness setting into his muscles, he helped pull Shindo to his feet. Once they were back in the house, away from any prying eyes, Izuku pulled Shindo to him, ready to pick up where they left off.

"I think you technically won," Izuku practically purred against Shindo's sweat-damp shirt. He murmured against his neck, right below his ear. He hoped Shindo could feel the smile curling his lips even if he couldn't see it. "So, I guess you get to have me now."

"But for how long?" Shindo asked, and even though he wound his arms around Izuku's back to pull him closer, his words sounded immensely sad.

"What?" Izuku was shocked. Shindo had been off all day, and he wasn't quite sure he could do anything to fix it.

Shindo put a hand on Izuku's cheek and gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Nothing. Let's get you cleaned up."

—-

"Izuku!" His mom was barely out the door to greet him and she was already crying.

"Hi, Mom," he said, and allowed himself to be pulled into one of his mom's legendary hugs. She was a bit thinner and greyer than the last time they saw each other, but she still had an undeniable warmth about her that permeated the very around around her.

"My baby, I've missed you so much! Oh, where's Shindo?"

"Ah, he decided to stay behind. He figured we would want a chance to catch up on our own."

"That's sweet of him, but I cooked for three. You'll have to take some leftovers back to him."

She released him from the hug, but continued to hold his hand, like she just couldn't let him go, and they walked into the house. It was small, but always well-kept. They'd been in this house since they moved away from Musutafu, and though Izuku hadn't lived there since he was eighteen, his room was always there waiting for him, the door always open and ready to receive him.

They sat at their small dining table. It was set for three, and the food was waiting to be plated. She made katsudon without having to be asked, and he was so excited to savor her home cooking that he'd basically fasted all day in preparation for it.

"Mom, you know you could turn my room into an office or something, right?"

"I'd never! Just because you don't live here anymore doesn't mean this isn't your home," she said while handing him a heaping bowl of food. She eyed him furtively before letting go of it. "So, any particular reason why you're not staying here this weekend?"

"Any particular reason why you're asking?"

"Well, you know I try not to listen to what the internet says about you, but I'd have to live under a rock not to know about _Quakeless,"_ she said, chuckling at that cursed moniker.

"Not you, too. That's all anyone ever wants to know about." Izuku pouted, and promptly stuffed his face with fried pork.

"Izuku, I've never pried, but you two aren't exactly subtle."

"Do we really have to do this right now?" He asked, shoveling more rice in his mouth.

"Well, I spared you the sex talk when you were younger. Would you rather get up to speed on that?"

His mother was a sweet woman, but she could be ruthlessly calculating when it suited her.

"Just to be clear, are you really asking if I'm sleeping with Shindo?" Izuku's face felt hot. He'd never thought he'd be having a conversation about sex with his mom.

"I already know you're sleeping with Shindo, honey. I'm asking why you've been so secretive about it."

"I thought you said we weren't subtle about it?"

"Don't do that," she scolded him.

"Do what?"

"That thing where you don't answer any of my questions. Your father used to do that. Somehow, you're better at it than he ever was. I swear, if Heroics didn't work out you'd be a hell of a politician."

Not for the first time since it happened, he thought of that day he saw Kacchan at the bar. He'd called him evasive then, too.

"I'll be honest, I'd rather have the sex talk than talk about Dad."

His father was always a sore spot for him. He left right around the time Izuku was diagnosed as Quirkless. He sent money to keep them afloat for a while, but he'd left them in the lurch only a year later. They hadn't had contact since. Dr. Shimada seemed very fixated on getting Izuku to talk about his "abandonment issues"—his words, not Izuku's. He went as far as to suggest that his parents' divorce was possibly the root source of his "commitment issues." Again, his words, not Izuku's. Izuku found this to be egregious.

"Sex it is, then. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not dating," Izuku mumbled, knowing this answer would only launch a thousand more questions he didn't want to answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Mom, please don't make me talk about this." He leaned back in his chair and dragged his hands down his face. His appetite was completely gone.

"He spends all his free time in Musutafu. You guys go on dates. How are you not dating?"

"We're just… casual. We're friends."

He avoided her eyes for a long time, until the silence was too much to bear. She was giving him the most incredulous look.

"I see the way he looks at you. And you don't look at him like you're _casual,_ either."

"I really don't want to talk about this."

"Alright, let's talk about Bakugo."

"My _god. _Why?"

"Because I read an entire article about my son being involved in a love triangle with his apparently casual friend with benefits and his childhood tormentor."

"You make it sound so sordid."

"So do the tabloids. I just want to know what's going on in your life. I worry about you." She reaches across the table to hold his hand again, and Izuku sighed, thoroughly guilt-tripped.

"I am not, nor have I ever been involved in a love triangle. I have talked to Kacchan a bit. He's apologized for everything, and we've called a truce. That's it."

"Is that a good thing? For you, I mean. I couldn't care less about Bakugo's feelings."

"That's surprisingly cold of you, Mom. I'm oddly proud."

"You're deflecting again," she said, crossing her arms. Izuku held up his hands in surrender.

"Shindo's not happy about it, and it's caused some...tension, but other than that it isn't really changing my life or anything. It's not a big deal."

She was silent for some time, appraising him, as if to detect whether or not he was lying.

"I really like Shindo. Not everyone gets a chance to be loved like you are, Izuku. That's all I'll say about it. I just want you to do what makes you happy." She smiled at him again, and Izuku could tell the interrogation was over with. He could actually feel his muscles relaxing. Izuku took a long sip from his water glass.

"Well, let's get these leftovers boxed up. Maybe Shindo can eat them off you later."

He choked on his water, sputtering and coughing. It was all down the front of his shirt by the time he'd been able to cough out, "_Mom!"_

He'd never heard his mom laugh so hard.

—-

"You would not believe what my mom said to me earlier," Izuku said as he used his key to let himself in. Shindo was sitting on the couch going through old records. It's funny how things always came back in style—even relics like longplay records. Shindo was mildly obsessed with the trend when they were eighteen, and he'd given him all the old records his Dad kept from the last time it was trendy.

"Oh, wow, I can't believe you still have these." Izuku put the leftovers on the coffee table next to the box of records and watched as Shindo thumbed through his collection.

"How's your mom?" Shindo still seemed a little gloomy, and the low lamplighting in the living room didn't seem to help.

"She missed you tonight, but she sent me home with leftovers—and likely a decade's worth of nightmare fuel."

"Sounds like an interesting story," Shindo said, a small smile playing at his lips. He pulled out a familiar album and flipped it over to read the track list.

"You know my parents' wedding song is on that album," Izuku said, running his hand on the worn edges of the album sleeve.

"Which one? Aren't all of these songs a little… depressing?"

"Their marriage, in a nutshell," Izuku said, and Shindo scoffed. He took the album from Shindo and went to put it on the record player. Despite the fact that the song should never have been used to kick off a marriage—at least not one they'd hoped would last, he'd always liked it.

Something about break up songs sounded more real to Izuku. There was so much more emotion in a song about losing love, than one about lasting love.

The first notes of a melancholic guitar sounded in the living room, and Izuku turned to Shindo.

"This one," he said, "May I have this dance?"

Shindo seemed mildly reluctant, but he allowed himself to be pulled off the couch and into a lazy slow dance in the middle of the living room as the first words of the song lilted around them. They let the English lyrics wash over them in the dim light. Shindo looked like he was concentrating on translating them—he'd always been slow on the uptake with English. Izuku's dad lived in America before he'd met his mom and he'd taught Izuku the language by playing his records. He knew the words by heart.

"_This is the deep and dying breath of this love we've been working on." _Izuku whispered the song as best he could in Japanese for Shindo. He really did love this song.

Shindo pulled him closer, and though he was taller than Izuku, he put his head on Izuku's shoulder as they slowly turned around the room. Shindo heaved a large sigh as the song was winding down, and in it Izuku could feel how shaky he was. That's when he realized his shoulder was damp.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

In all the time they'd be friends, he'd never once seen Shindo cry. Izuku was the crybaby in their dynamic, and Shindo was the shoulder to cry on.

"I can't do this anymore, Izuku. I won't give you an ultimatum because I know how that'll end, but I have to be done with this." Shindo looked like it physically pained him to say it. Izuku was stunned. He knew something was wrong with Shindo all day.

"But...why? I thought things were great today."

"They were. It was like it used to be. We haven't been this good in a long time, but that almost hurts more. I feel like I'm waiting for it to go bad again."

Izuku started to say something—what, he didn't know—but Shindo shook his head.

"I don't want to pretend we're not in a relationship anymore. I don't want to hide. I don't want to feel bad for being in love with you."

They were still holding each other, and another song had queued up on the record. It was useless background noise now. Shindo cupped his cheek, and that's when Izuku realized he was crying too.

"I make you feel bad?" Izuku asked, and his own voice sounded so foreign to him, strained as it was. Shindo shouldn't feel like that. He didn't answer, and when he started to untangle himself from their embrace, Izuku held on tighter.

"I'm sorry, Yo. I'm—I love you, too. I'm sorry, I didn't know how much I was hurting you."

"I told you, I won't give you an ultimatum. You don't have to—"

"No, I'm being honest. I'm in love with you too." It felt odd to say, but it didn't ring false. Izuku wanted Shindo. He didn't want anything about their arrangement to change, and if that came at the cost of calling him his boyfriend, he could be okay with that. Hopefully.

"Just don't leave me," Izuku whispered, and though he didn't want to think about it, Dr. Shimada's condescending voice rang in his ears. _Abandonment issues. Commitment issues._

Izuku had so many issues, and Shindo still loved him. His mother's words stuck with him too. _He spends all his free time in Musutafu. You guys go on dates. How are you not dating?_ The points she tried to make were no different than Dr. Shimada's, but when she said them, he could at least acknowledge their truth.

So, he caved. Because there was a difference between hurting himself and hurting Shindo, and he couldn't lose him.

"You're my boyfriend. I'm yours. Only yours."

Shindo kissed him then, and only then had he realized how much he'd been holding back that day. He'd put years of love into one kiss, and—as if that wasn't enough—he murmured against his lips, "I love you" over and over again. It was no surprise they ended up in the bedroom, tangled together in his sheets, the record player still spinning without an audience.

Later, when they lay together, cuddled up in each other, Izuku started to worry he'd made a mistake. He couldn't feel the cage, so much as he worried about how much tighter the cage would feel when it inevitably resurfaced. He didn't want to think about it right then. At that moment, he just wanted to make Shindo happy.

"I told my mom about us," he said, and Shindo beamed. He didn't need to know that she'd basically tortured the confession out of him.

"And?"

"She approved so heartily that she suggested you eat leftover katsudon off my naked body," Izuku said, trying to maintain a straight face. Shindo guffawed, much the same way Izuku had when she first said it. They both giggled much longer than they usually would, high on endorphins and each other.

"Sounds messy," Shindo said, his finger softly tracing the lines of his collar bone.

"We'd be picking rice out of places for weeks," Izuku agreed. Suddenly, both his and Shindo's phones went berserk, pinging and vibrating with notifications.

"Wonder what's going on?" Shindo said. He reached for Izuku's phone, it was the closest one he could reach. They were from Winstagram and Tweeter, a flurry of tags. Izuku pushed his head closer to Shindo's to peek at the screen. HeroBuzz tagged them in a photo, and by the looks of it, it was popular.

"ITS OFFICIAL ! Pro Hero's officialquirkless & proheroquake share a hot and heavy post-workout smooch #theshipissailing #Qsquared #Quakeless4ever"

"Oh my god," Izuku said, and Shindo looked worried for a moment. Izuku felt the need to clarify that he wasn't worried about being found out—they indeed, were official now, anyway.

"We look so lewd! Look, I can see your tongue in my mouth!"

"Well, at least the timing worked out," Shindo locked the phone and tossed it back on the bedside table. "Besides, we can be way more lewd than that."

Shindo kissed him again, sloppy and gross, rubbing his tongue all over Izuku's face. Izuku giggled, and settled in for a long, sleepless night.


	8. Orbit

AUGUST

Katsuki remembered fleetingly thinking that he'd rather see a post of Izuku and Shindo full on making out than have no update at all from Izuku. Yeah, that was bullshit. When he said it, he never thought he'd actually be confronted with a photo of the two of them like that. Katsuki didn't want to keep scrolling through Winstagram and seeing the celebratory comments on that post, but he couldn't make himself stop. His chest hurt every time some no-name extra exalted their union in all caps and key smashes, but he couldn't make himself look away. Every now and then, there was a Ground Zero stan in the comments crying about QuirkZero or Groundless—apparently, the fandom hadn't decided on which moniker worked best yet—and he felt a bit better, but the fact remained that Quake was the one horizontally kissing Izuku for the entire world to see, not Katsuki.

The news came as he was coming off a patrol shift, and he stomped through the agency, exuding his _don't fuck with me_ energy with reckless abandon. It always worked to make people keep their distance, but there was always an exception to the rule.

"Bakubitch, quit sulking." Ashido caught him as he was leaving the agency, easily keeping up with his quick stride, despite the fact that he was a head taller than her.

"I'm not sulking," Katsuki said like the sulking baby he was.

"You are, and that's valid. Even you're entitled to lose your shit every now and then."

"My shit is together. Like always." Katsuki walked faster, doing his best to lose her on his way to the train station.

"Bakugo, you like him. Kiri told me."

Katsuki stopped. He felt like he'd been shot. The truth was always more cutting, especially when it came from the people you trust.

"So what?" What did it matter how Katsuki felt, in the grand scheme of things? That wouldn't stop Izuku's relationship in its tracks. That wouldn't stop the odd pinching sensation in Katsuki's chest.

"So, be patient. It took Kiri and I years to get where we are."

"You and _Kiri,_ are not Izuku and me. Not even close."

The worst part about being confronted with Izuku's relationship was that he hardly had a definition for what he and Izuku were. Were they friends? Casual acquaintances that ran into each other and made the best of an awkward encounter? He had no idea. Izuku was starting to feel like _everything_ to Katsuki, an all-consuming want, but he had no basis for what _he_ was to Izuku. There were very few things in his life that he was uncertain about. Uncertainty was a bitch, and he was glad he didn't have much experience with it.

"So, be his friend. Don't throw away someone important to you because you didn't get your way, at first."

"I'm not throwing shit away," Katsuki said, and the fire of determination ignited in the center of his being. He had no intention of ever doing so, he couldn't fathom not seeing Izuku again, couldn't even see it as an option.

"Good. I just wanted to make sure you had your shit straight. You don't have to bear everything alone, you know?"

"Fuck off, Alien Queen. My shit's straight."

"There's nothing straight about you, idiot. And I know you only call me Alien Queen when I've done something right. You're fucking welcome, dickhead." She smiled and bumped his shoulder. Katsuki let the conversation die, mostly because he had no defense for anything she said.

He was about a block away from the train station when Ashido finally stopped walking with him and veered off toward what he knew was the path to Kirishima's apartment.

—

Izuku arrived on the Ketsubutsu campus Monday morning feeling a bit tired. It was leaving a safe, comforting cocoon and stepping out into the real world. In the real world, away from the safety and privacy of Shindo's bedroom, Izuku was starting to feel like he'd been too hasty. On the surface, there wasn't much of a difference in being Shindo's boyfriend. He might've bore it with more grace if that pictured hadn't been circulated and talked about with so much vigor.

"Midoriya," a familiar voice said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ms. Joke," he said in greeting. They exchanged quick hugs—a much more warm greeting than he expected—and Izuku felt the weight of his stressors float away. It was odd to see his mentor as a colleague, and equal, but the second he graduated that's what they became. Ms. Joke took care of him in high school, she put him on a path to where he was today, and he was so grateful to her for it.

"How've you been, kid? How's life in the big city?"

"Don't make me sound like some rosy-cheeked ingenue, Joke. Everything's fine."

"I know. You always roll with the punches, Q. How's your other half?"

"My _what?"_ Izuku was stopped short by her choice of wording. Had she seen the post too? That was a stupid question, even older pros still did the bare minimum to keep up with social media, but he wasn't ready for her to address it so casually.

"The other Q in Q-Sqaured? I gave you kids that name, after you guys pulled off that rescue during your internships. I haven't forgotten!"

"Oh, yeah. Right. He's great."

Joke smiled tightly, sensing the beginnings of his distress. The air around them was suddenly awkward.

"Anyway, you'll be talking to my class. 2-A, just like you used to be. A real smart batch of kids, but they're still kids—so expect a healthy amount of attitude and short attention spans."

"Gotcha. I'll work with it. I'm a teacher now too, after all." Izuku smiled at his mentor. She beamed at him, and put a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"How could I forget? Proud of you, Q. Go get 'em."

—

"Any questions before we get started?"

To Izuku's immense surprise, every hand in the classroom shot up. He picked a student at random, a girl in the back of the room with pink, spiked hair.

"Is it true you're dating Quake? He's the most famous Ketsubutsu alum in years."

Izuku blinked, trying his best not to betray his frustration at the question. He doesn't answer—he doesn't even pretend to think about an answer.

"Are there any questions that aren't about Quake?" He clarified, trying to unfist his hands. All but two hands go down, and then he further clarified, "Or about my personal life?"

All the hands went down, and Izuku sighed. It'd hadn't even been two full days since HeroBuzz posted that photo of him and Shindo, and he was already sick of answering—or better, deflecting—questions. He couldn't for the life of him understand their fascination with Quakeless. It wasn't anything new. People had been pairing them together like that since they graduated, and weren't there more famous hero couples to ogle? He could name three off the top of his head that all ranked higher than the two of them.

Shindo seemed entirely unbothered by their newfound lack of privacy. They went to the grocery store Sunday night and Shindo held his hand on the walk home. It wasn't unpleasant—it was really sweet, actually—but there were soon upwards of twenty new pictures of their outing online, and an outpouring of opinions on every aspect of their relationship, including who was the top. It boggled Izuku's mind that so much of his life was under a microscope. It undermined his authority in a classroom, and it undermined the level of control he had over his life.

"Okay, so we're going to talk about using your support weapons to the fullest."

—

By the time he got back to work at UA on Tuesday, he was raging against the bars of his new life. The teachers knew better than to question him about Quake, but he'd been hounded by reporters at the gates that morning, and every morning after that the entire week. Every morning, he had to resist the urge to tear his hair out and scream _how am I that important to you?_

But Izuku knew better. He knew that he wasn't the pertinent half of the relationship, but Quake was too important to hound with questions because he outranked him. Why not go for the lower hanging fruit?

With his students on their internships, he'd busied himself with adding additional supervision to the hero course's lessons. His utter uselessness did little to distract him from the fucked-upped-ness of his personal life. Aizawa's kids were skilled—and lucky to wield such powerful Quirks. Unfortunately, they seemed to be high on their Quirks, and relying solely on brute force to get them by. He was sure it wasn't for lack of trying on Aizawa's part to try to get them to think outside the box. Still, he was excited for his students to come back so they could teach them a thing or two about strategy.

"You good?" Shinso said, popping up out of nowhere, as he often did. Izuku barely kept himself from jumping in surprise.

"Fantastic, thanks," Izuku said dryly.

"Really? 'Cause you look pissed off."

"I look like Aizawa gave me the most awkward talking-to of my life. Something about me being loose, if I recall."

"I can't imagine Aizawa saying anything like that."

"I believe his exact words were, _it's not hard to keep it in your pants, kid. Personal lives are meant to be personal."_

Shinso whistled, an abysmal, unimpressed sound. Izuku bristled, feeling like the joke he was. Izuku had no kind of response for that.

"Listen, there's something about Aizawa you could never know if you weren't his student: he's a tough-love son of a bitch, but he doesn't waste his time on people he doesn't care about."

"All you've managed to communicate to me is that I have a sub-par, non-UA education and that Aizawa doesn't care about me the way he does about you."

"That's your problem, dude. You're so busy undercutting yourself, you refuse to accept help."

"So this is you trying to help me?" Izuku asked, sighing haughtily.

"I'm trying to be a friend—a colleague, or whatever you want to call it."

"I didn't know we were friends."

"Yeah, well, I'm like Aizawa in that regard. Sorry you didn't figure it out sooner," Shinso said, looking anywhere but at Izuku. Before it got any more awkward, a hero student managed to snap an ankle.

"I'll take him to Recovery Girl," Izuku said decisively, extricating himself.

Izuku helped the student limp to the nurses office. His costume was bulky and superfluous, so it wasn't exactly easy. When they finally lumbered to the nurse's office, he was surprised to see a familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" Izuku asked, like it wasn't obvious.

"The old lady always heals me up when I need it," Kacchan said, his tender, half-healed broken arm in a sling. He'd never expected to see Kacchan that day, but he wasn't put off by his presence. It was almost pleasant to see him so unexpectedly.

"And here I was thinking you just never got hurt," he said, depositing his ward in a cot for Recovery Girl to treat him.

"Typically, I don't. I'm just that good." Kacchan gave him a devilish grin. He stood to leave the infirmary, and Izuku fell into step beside him easily. They walked through the halls, and Izuku had that same feeling he had earlier when Shinso mentioned that he hadn't gone to UA—he was an outsider next to someone like Kacchan.

"You off-duty for the rest of the day?" Izuku asked, coming up with somewhat of an idea.

"I shouldn't be. The old bat says I need to rest though."

"Want to assist the youth of Japan instead?"

"What did you have in mind?" Kacchan asked wryly. He got the sense that he wasn't wary at all though, and that spurred him on.

"I teach a third year Quirk analysis elective in about twenty minutes. All the girls in my class are mad at me right now, so it might be useful to distract them with some eye candy."

"Eye candy, huh? You flirting with me?" Kacchan smirked again, even more devilish than before, and for the first time in a long time, Izuku felt a thrill that started in his groin and shot up his spine. He felt the need to shake his head to rid himself of his odd—yet pleasurable—thoughts.

"If I was, you wouldn't have to ask for clarification." He gave his own devilish smile, and Kacchan seemed to stop short. They were close to the classroom by then, and just before he moved to open the door, Kacchan found his voice.

"So how's—"

"If you ask me about Quake, I will not hesitate to break your arm again."

"That good, huh?" Kacchan huffed a laugh.

—

Katsuki was surprised to find that the class was almost entirely girls, aside from one kid that looked annoyed with all the idle adolescent chatter going on around him as he tried to write in his notebook, one kid that looked like he joined the class just to chase skirts, and one very flamboyantly, gay boy who gave Izuku a birthday present before scurrying off to his seat. Izuku did not touch the gift, but he thanked him for being so thoughtful. It was made abundantly clear to Katsuk that almost every student in his class was hot for teacher, and very likely only in the class to ogle and harass Izuku.

"Alright, class. This is Ground Zero. You have ten minutes to come up with five questions about his Quirk that you all can agree on, and I want as comprehensive an analysis as you can write up with the rest of the class time. Nishinoya, will you be timekeeper?" Izuku said. The serious boy nodded before turning back to his notebook.

"Perfect. Any questions?" Izuku asked, clasping his hands together.

A hand flew up, and before Izuku could even call on her, she blurted out, in an almost possessive, accusing tone, "How do you know Midoriya-sensei?"

"We grew up together," Katsuki said.

"Ah! Zip it, Number 5. Don't answer personal questions. They're like vultures," Izuku snapped, at the same time as another student asked, "Is it true you're in love with Midoriya-sensei and you lost the duel for his heart to Quake?"

"Where the hell did you read that?" Katsuki spluttered.

"The Eggplant!"

"Togane, that's irrelevant and inappropriate."

"First of all, kid, I could totally take Quake in a fight—"

"Get to work!" Izuku huffed, cutting him off.

"Didn't you get your ass kicked by Midoriya-sensei last year?"

"Language," Izuku said, sounding weary. The students reluctantly turned in their seats to start brainstorming their questions—or so he thought, until he heard someone whisper. "He did! My friend's little sister was in that class—remember Murasaki? She said it was really hot."

"What the hell is The Eggplant?" Katsuki whispered, seating himself on the edge of Izuku's desk.

"A website dedicated to fabricating embarrassing and salacious relationship drama among heroes," Izuku grumbled.

"Why is it called The Eggplant?"

"They got their start releasing celebrity dick pics. With the eggplant emoji over the explicit bits."

"Christ. Are your students always like this?"

"Only when my life is talked about online. Well, actually, that's not true. They're always like this, but it's worse now."

"Because you and Quake are out?"

"Do not say the Q-word in this classroom. It won't end well." Izuku sighed, and leaned back into his chair. For someone who'd apparently found love, he didn't seem blissfully happy. He seemed agitated and bone-tired of being asked about it. As selfish as it was, all Katsuki could think was that maybe he still had a chance. Maybe he just needed to ride this out, like a bumpy section of road, or a turbulent flight.

"I'm sorry," Katsuki said, unbidden. Izuku looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to glow with something.

"That's the second time you've apologized to me now, Ground Zero. What gives?"

Katsuki shrugged. It was hardly the time or place to make any kind of declaration to Izuku, and it didn't seem like saying something like that would do anything to alleviate Izuku's stress. He chose his words carefully, remembering their one good conversation in the bar.

"You said once that you felt like you were drowning, and you needed a life vest. I'll be a whole goddamn raft, if you want. If you need to talk, I can listen—and we can even get drunk, within reason." He didn't mean for his words to carry so much weight. He felt himself leaning closer to Izuku, pulled into his orbit again, looming over him almost protectively. Izuku looked at him with that same guarded look he'd given him at his parents' house so many years ago—like if he didn't armor himself he'd be in danger of breaking. Izuku opened his mouth, and then closed it, chewing on his lip. When he opened it again to speak, someone else's voice permeated the air.

"Times up. We have to question Ground Zero now."

—

"You saw Ground Zero again?" Shindo said from the couch, rather abruptly, as Izuku was making tea. It was a beautiful morning, and Izuku really didn't want to spend it fighting.

"Yeah," Izuku said, giving no extra details.

"Why?"

"He helped out with my third year class."

Shindo was silent for a long time, and Izuku assumed that was the end of it. It wasn't worth getting into a fight over. Izuku walked the mugs over to the couch slowly, so as not to spill.

"This isn't working," Shindo said, decisively and completely out of nowhere. Izuku was taken aback, so much so that he took a literal step back, as if to reorient himself. Some tea sloshed out of the mug in his hand, mildly stinging his skin.

"How do you figure?"

Shindo gave him a withering look, and that set Izuku off. He _knew_ it wasn't working. He went against everything he believed in because Shindo said he couldn't go on with things they way they were, only for it to go up in flames faster than ever. When Shindo said nothing, Izuku dug his heels in, ready for battle. He put the mugs on the coffee table with much more force than necessary.

"How is this any different than what we've been doing for two years?"

"How is it the same?" Shindo asked, borrowing a play from Izuku's book of deft deflections. The rage in Izuku came to a head. He was so frustrated, caged as he was by his attachment to Shindo.

"Oh, right. It's totally different. Now, all of Japan gets to weigh in on our lives more than usual. Now, I don't get to be myself, I get to be your goddamn boyfriend. That's it. That's all I am now, that's all I get to talk about for the rest of my life. Now, you get to feel _secure_ because you have a stupid label to put on us."

"What's so wrong with labels? What's so wrong with being open about our relationship?"

"Because I'm more than that! And nobody cares—not even you. No one looks at me and sees anything other than some tabloid puff piece to probe and exploit, and all you see is someone to lock down—as if I've ever done anything to make you this jealous—as if I've ever _been_ with anyone else."

"Jealous? Are you kidding me?"

"Yes! You care about Kacchan more than I do," Izuku said, and he knew right then that he fucked up.

"Kacchan, huh?"

"It's a hard habit to break. Don't read into it." Izuku couldn't quite meet Shindo's gaze, and he knew that made him look all the more guilty. But what does he have to be guilty about? Mending a relationship that'd grieved him for ten years? Wasn't that progress? Shouldn't that be something to applaud, if Shindo really cared about Izuku's "recovery" (truly, an idiotic term, in his opinion) as much as he claimed he did?

"So, he calls you Deku again, and you're just fine with it?" Shindo said _Deku_ the way another person might say _gangrenous wound _or _curdled dairy._

"He calls me Izuku, actually," he said, knowing full well that he was digging himself deeper. At that point, Izuku hardly cared. He'd been holding everything in for so long, he was more than happy to explode. Izuku was always the sensitive one, but that was only because he treated Shindo's feelings with kid gloves. The metaphorical gloves were off now.

"We should've never done this."

"I did this for you! I didn't want this!"

"Then why do it? You pushed me for this. I tried to give you an out," Shindo said, and all the anger seemed to go out of him—and that was no way to fight. He sounded so sad, resigned. It took all the fight out of Izuku too because he really had no answer for that. No answer that he could put into words and still walk away with his dignity, at least.

—

Katsuki woke up feeling oddly lucky, like he was meant for greatness (more so than usual, anyway). And when he saw that Izuku had texted him while he was sleeping, he took it as a sign. The text itself was innocuous and friendly, a thank you for helping out with his class the other day. So Katsuki decided to spend his lucky day doing his damndest to lock down some one-on-one time with the green haired idiot he couldn't stop thinking about.

Their apartments weren't far from each other's, and it was a really mild day for July, so he decided to walk. He felt empty handed and wondered if he should bring something with him as a peace offering to add to the growing pile of peace offerings he'd been laying at Izuku's feet for the last year or so. He wandered into a flower shop and stared at some stargazer lilies before he decided that was way too forward and left without buying anything. He decided on candy. Izuku liked sour gummies when they were kids, so he grabbed four different kinds of sours before grabbing a pack of hot cinnamon candies for himself. Maybe they could watch a movie together. Katsuki smiled to himself as he paid for the candy and made his way to Izuku's apartment.

—

Just as Katsuki was about to knock on the door, it opened.

"Uh," Katsuki said, his hand still awkwardly fisted in the air where the door used to be.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

To say that Katsuki was surprised to come face to face with Shindo Yo instead of Izuku was an understatement. He was suddenly grateful that he was too embarrassed to buy those flowers.

"Shindo. Long time, no see." Katsuki was trying really hard not to be an asshole to Izuku's kind-of-pretty-much boyfriend despite the fact that Shindo looked murderous and the jealous monster inside Katsuki was preparing for war in the pit of his stomach.

"Yo, wait," Izuku said, scurrying from around a corner. When he saw Katsuki he faltered, blinking a few times before asking, "What are you doing here?"

"It's my day off. I… didn't know you were busy," Katsuki said because he really didn't feel like explaining that he was throwing his hat in the ring in the fight for Izuku's affection. He'd fight Shindo for nothing, to be honest, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

"Seriously?" Shindo asked, looking at Izuku like he needed an explanation for Katsuki's offending presence at his door. Katsuki gritted his teeth.

"Now's not really a good time." Izuku looked apologetic as he grabbed Shindo's wrist, presumably to keep him from leaving. Before Katsuki could beg off, Shindo pulled his arm out of Izuku's grasp and pushed past Katsuki.

"Now's a great time. I'm leaving."

"You barely just got here," Izuku said, raising his voice to call after Shindo's retreating form.

"Doesn't matter," he called back, not bothering to turn or stop. Katsuki didn't miss the miserable hunch in Shindo's shoulders as he watched him walk away. Katsuki might've felt smug if Izuku didn't look vaguely hurt by Shindo's exit.

"So that happened." Izuku sighed.

"Yeah. Sorry." Katsuki didn't know if he was apologizing for interrupting what was clearly a fight, or if he was apologizing for the fact that Izuku was obviously upset.

"It's okay. Come on in." Izuku stepped out of the doorway to make room for him to pass.

"What crawled up his ass?"

"He doesn't like you very much." Izuku sighed. Katsuki thought he was always sighing, trying to rid himself of some heavy emotions. He wanted to be funny, to lighten the mood. He wanted to make Izuku feel better—and wasn't that an out of character thought?

"The feeling's mutual; however, I'm trying this new thing called _civility."_

"How's that working out for you?" He gave a small, pitifully half-hearted smile.

"It fucking sucks."

Deku only laughed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Your apartment's nice. I didn't get to tell you that last time," Katsuki said, desperate to change the subject.

Izuku laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, it's hard to work that into a screaming match. Your mom helped me decorate."

Katsuki raised his eyebrows at that. He didn't know that. He couldn't really imagine his mom in Izuku's space, putting up curtains and picking out furniture. Katsuki wished he could've seen it.

"So, what brings you here?" Izuku asked, trying really hard to lighten the sour mood Shindo left.

"I have a fuckload of sour gummies. I thought we could watch a movie or something, but I understand if you're not in the mood for that."

"Well, that depends…."

"On?"

"Did you buy watermelon Sour Patch?"

Katsuki smirked. "You know it."

That's how they ended up on Izuku's couch watching some old pre-Quirk era superhero movie they'd both seen a thousand times. They were both silent, save for the occasional comment on the impracticality of their hero gear and uniforms, or the smacking sound of chewing gummies. It was… nostalgic.

Katsuki remembered many summer afternoons in the Midoriya household watching All Might videos and eating too much sugar before Katsuki's Quirk came in and he turned into a supreme douchebag.

Eventually, Izuku dozed off. And that was familiarly nostalgic too, because Izuku could never stay awake through an entire movie when he was a kid either. His head fell on Katsuki's shoulder, his bush of curly hair tickling Katsuki's neck.

Katsuki knew that day was a lucky day. Still, he thought it best not to push his luck. So when the movie ended, Katsuki gently got off the couch, careful not to jostle Izuku too much. He didn't wake, and Katsuki quietly saw himself out.

He almost got away without another awkward confrontation. Almost. As he was leaving Izuku's apartment complex, Shindo seemed to magically appear. He was going to keep walking. He had nothing to say to him, and knew next to nothing about his and Izuku's complicated relationship, so what was the point in speaking to him?

Shindo grabbed his arm as they passed each other.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you need to leave Izuku alone."

Katsuki snarled and wrenched his arm from Shindo's grip.

"I'm not doing anything. And even if I was, it's none of your fuckin business."

"He's my boyfriend. It _is _my business. I know all about you. I know what you did to him. I've seen the scars your bullying left."

_I left scars?_ _Was I really so awful?_ Katsuki faltered. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. That didn't stop Shindo.

"When I first met Izuku, he was afraid of his own shadow. He hardly spoke to anyone because he was so embarrassed of his stutter. _You_ did that to him. You're the reason he can't stand to be around fire, or go five seconds without beating himself up for being human. He's _finally_ in a good place, and you just want to shit all over it because you can't handle not being the center of attention."

Katsuki's jaw clenched further—as if that was even possible. He didn't know anything about Izuku's time at Ketsubutsu, or how Katsuki's bullying changed him. He was horrified by the words coming out of Shindo's mouth, and he was pissed that he had no defense at all. But there was one thing he was certain of. One thing, he knew, Shindo got wrong.

"He's not in a good place. I don't have to be dating him to see that. Why can't you?"

Shindo's hands were fisted at his sides, clenching and unclenching like it was taking all his strength not to just punch Katsuki in the mouth. Well, same.

"Leave him alone," Shindo said, his mouth an angry pucker.

"Why? Feeling threatened?" Katsuki smirked. He reveled in the look on Shindo's face, stricken and surprised. Fuck being civil. Fuck anything other than being an asshole to Shindo. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone. That was between him and Izuku—no one else. There's a reason Izuku never outed him as the bully of his childhood, and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth by questioning that decision.

"Fuck you, Bakugo." Shindo started to turn back, no doubt heading for Izuku's apartment. Katsuki was glad to have the confrontation over. He didn't know if he could take anymore revelations. He didn't want to know how much he'd fucked Izuku up.

And then, Shindo wheeled back around and sucker punched Katsuki in the jaw.


	9. Houston, We Have A Problem

SEPTEMBER

Izuku sighed at the sight of Shindo sprawled on the couch, his head tipped back to avoid bleeding all over it. Izuku placed a frozen bag of strawberries on his swelling nose as lightly as possible. Shindo still winced. _Serves him right,_ Izuku thought, and then immediately felt bad about it.

"What were you thinking?" Izuku asked as he rounded the couch and sat next to him. The action jostled Shindo enough to make him groan into the strawberries.

"I wasn't," Shindo said, lamely.

"I don't believe that for a second."

"That's your prerogative. I don't feel like being scolded right now though. A broken nose seems like good enough punishment for being an idiot."

"I'm not going to scold you," Izuku said, his voice breaking as an immense sadness blanketed the room. Whatever was coming next, it felt like an ending.

"Just let me get some of this swelling down, and I'll head out."

"That's it?" Izuku expected more fight from Shindo. They were always fighting about something.

"I just got my shit rocked and I can't breathe through my nose. I don't want to fight right now." Shindo tried to sigh, but it sounded more like a wet, whistling cough.

"Are you mad at me, though?" Izuku wasn't sure why he asked that. It felt like Shindo was mad at him. What he really wanted to know was why he was mad, because none of this was Izuku's fault.

"A little. Mostly, I'm mad at myself," he said, resignation thick in his tone. He finally sat up properly to look at Izuku, still clutching the bag to his face. "I feel like I haven't been myself in a long time, and I need to get back to that."

Izuku nodded, solemn. "You're better than… whatever this was," he said, gesturing vaguely to Shindo's battered face.

_You're better than me, so much better than I deserve, _Izuku thought, getting misty eyed.

"This was a momentary lapse in sanity, but it's helping me see a little clearer. I think we need some time apart."

"I know. This really isn't working."

"You're still my best friend. You know that, right?"

"Only because you're too good to me," Izuku said, tears beginning to spill. Shindo pulled him into a one-armed hug, and there was absolutely nothing romantic about it. Izuku felt like a page turning, a chapter closing.

"Take care of yourself, alright?"

Izuku only nodded because if he spoke, he knew he'd lose what little control he had, and start sobbing. He really didn't want Shindo to have to deal with his tears. He was far too good and gracious and kind for Izuku to put him through anymore of that.

—

Izuku wanted to die of embarrassment. He was sitting on the couch eating cereal for dinner because he and Shindo ended two days ago and he already couldn't be bothered to take care of himself properly. He nearly dropped the bowl of discolored milk when he saw a video of Shindo and Kacchan fighting. The video had been making the rounds on social media, of course, but Izuku had avoided watching it. He was afraid to watch it, really, because the secondhand embarrassment might be too much for him to handle. He had to say, for two top heroes in the prime of their lives, it was a spectacularly shitty fight. Aside from Shindo's surprise punch to Kacchan's jaw, and his retaliating punch that broke Shindo's nose, the fight was a lot of flapping hands, shirt pulling, and childish shoving. He couldn't believe it warranted enough attention to be put in the local news—it must've been a slow week for villains. Instead of hearing what the newscasters had to say, he called Kacchan. It rang twice before he picked up.

"Izuku?"

"You're a dumbass," Izuku said in lieu of a greeting. "I'm so fucking angry at you two."

Kacchan groaned. "Would it make it better or worse if I say he started it?"

"Worse. Definitely worse. You're on the fucking news."

"Starry is eviscerating us all on his late-night show. Are you watching?"

"_You_ watch that crap?" Izuku asked, flabbergasted. He didn't think Kacchan was a late-night talk show kind of guy, much less one like Starry's.

"Oi, fuck off. Pinky's on this show sometimes."

"Shindo went on that show. They're the reason Quakeless became a thing," Izuku grumbled.

"I know. I saw that episode. They were a lot nicer on that episode. They're not pulling any punches this time."

"I'll watch it and call you back. Talk later," he said.

"Bye," Kacchan said, just before Izuku ended the call. Izuku sighed and changed the channel, catching the tail end of a Kit Kat commercial. When the show came back, Starry's smarmy blue face was front and center.

"We're back for our hour-long special, and this story is a doozy. Don't forget, I'm joined by my panel of guests: romance novelist, Koiji Aiko, American social media guru, Jenny Yang, and pro hero couple, Creati and Celcius. Thanks again for being here tonight. For those of you just joining us, a few days ago pro heroes Ground Zero and Quake got into a fist fight over what most people assume is a lovers' quarrel."

Izuku bristled at his word choice, and settled in for the onslaught. A picture of him and Shindo appeared on the screen. They were holding hands and Shindo was smiling at him. Izuku was looking at the camera with a wide-eyed expression on his face, not unlike a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His heart gave a small, unexpected lurch.

"So these two have been in the spotlight a lot recently. A little over two years ago, on this very show, Quakeless entered fandom vernacular, though there was little more than rumors floating around about their relationship at the time, and we couldn't get our guest, Quake, to fess up."

A picture of a red-face, slack-jawed Shindo on the show flashed on the screen for a few seconds before changing back to a photo of Shindo and Izuku. This time, it was the one of them kissing in his yard. Izuku averted his gaze, suddenly very interested in his blank phone screen.

"Only three months ago, we finally got _explicit_ proof"—Starry paused, presumably to allow the audience to soak up his genius turn of phrase—"they were, in fact, a couple. What do you guys think of this development?"

"I think they're sweet, but I'm much more partial to QuirkZero," the romance novelist—a woman in her forties with a kitten on the front of her oversized sweater—said.

"That name sounds like a crappy off-brand soda," Starry said. Izuku wanted to disagree, on principle, but he couldn't. It absolutely sounded like a shitty, zero calorie soda. A photo of his preschool class photo shown in the top left of the screen, zoomed in to show that Kacchan and Izuku were standing next to each other. Koiji continued.

"There's very little about Ground Zero in the news, aside from his upward mobility on the hero rankings, and his impressive villain fights. He's mysterious, withholding, and successful. Then there's Quirkless. He's open about everything, a shining personality—he's a teacher, for god's sake. It's a classic opposites attract story, and that's all _before_ the added cuteness of the fact that they grew up together. It's a romance novel waiting to be written."

Izuku grimaced. He hoped Shindo wasn't watching this. The photo changed to the picture Izuku posted on Kacchan's Winstagram.

"We've met all three of them before, and I have to say, I've never heard Ground Zero mention Quirkless. Before the picture than confirmed they were dating, I never suspected Quake and Quirkless were in a relationship either." Creati's addition to the conversation was polite and impartial. Izuku decided he liked her.

"Me neither," Celcius, a man of very few words, said. Izuku had always found him to be incredibly handsome, but that was about it. He had about as much personality as a slice of soggy wheat bread. Maybe he was just shy.

"There was that article that claimed sources close to Ground Zero was crushing on Quirkless," Starry said, clearly unenthused by Celcius' lackluster input.

"I believe that article specified that the source _overheard_ a conversation amongst Ground Zero and his friends. I wouldn't take that as fact, though they do seem cozy in that photo," Jenny Yang, a smartly dressed young woman of Chinese descent, said in heavily accented Japanese. "However, with regard to Miss Koiji's comment, I wouldn't call Quirkless forthcoming at all."

"What makes you say that, Jenny?" Starry asked.

"If you look at that photo of Quake and Quirkless holding hands, Quake looks laid back. He's smiling at his boyfriend without a care for who's snapping pics. Quirkless is staring directly at the camera. He looks tense. I'm assuming Quirkless was behind the decision to keep their relationship as private as possible," Jenny said, pushing a stray hair behind her ear.

"Now, compare it with other photos he's taken himself with Quake—even the one with Ground Zero. They're suggestive, yes, but they never give us any definitive proof of either of them ever being more than friends. Quirkless is a master of social media, simply put. He controls his own narrative in a way that makes him incredibly likeable, and keeps him in the public eye enough that he's clawed his way up the Japanese hero rankings without a Quirk."

Izuku was transfixed by this woman who saw through him so completely. It was terrifying to be picked apart so aptly by a stranger.

"Is this something you talk about in your upcoming book?" Creati asked, seemingly genuinely interested in the subject.

"Yes, actually. It's a comprehensive analysis of the effects social media has on the hero rankings, specifically those in Japan, but I do mention other countries. It's no understatement to say that Quirkless and his strategy of 'show them everything, tell them nothing' makes up roughly 25 percent of my book," Jenny said, smiling genuinely with what must be pride. Izuku gawked at her. His skin crawled at the thought of people reading her book and picking through his accounts because it was sure to be full of insights about him he'd rather keep hidden.

"He's truly fascinating, and in my experience, the subject of a lot of lively debate. Quirkless navigates social media in a way that allows his followers to draw their own conclusions about him. People tend to gravitate towards people they can see a bit of themselves in. We love to unconsciously project ourselves onto others whenever we can. Quirkless seems to really understand that, but I come away from it thinking that we really don't know who he is as a person."

By the end of her diatribe, even Starry was speechless. His mouth hung dumbly open for a few seconds before he composed himself.

"Wow, who'd have thought we'd ever get such smart analysis on my funny little gossip show. Anyway—"

Izuku turned the TV off before Starry brought the conversation back to his failed relationship. He couldn't handle anymore. He didn't call Kacchan back. He went to bed and stared at his ceiling for hours, turning Jenny Yang's words over in his head.

—-

That night, Katsuki texted Izuku when it became pretty clear that he wasn't going to call him back. He hoped he was alright.

_**Katsuki Bakugo: **__my next day off is tuesday. dinner?_

_**Izuku Midoriya: **__we go over lesson plans on tues so i usually get dinner w aizawa n shinso. drinks after?_

_**Katsuki Bakugo: **__sounds good. ill buy._

_**Izuku Midoriya:**_ _:) sweeeeeet_

Katsuki never knew a fucking emoticon could affect him so fully, but there he was grinning like an idiot, his stomach doing a complicated trapeze routine.

—

"Everything okay?"

Izuku nodded, plastering a fake smile on his face as he slid into his usual barstool next to Katsuki.

"I'm alive, so, there's that. You're still buying right?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Good. Surprisingly, UA doesn't pay all that well."

"No shit? Is that why Aizawa lives in a sleeping bag?"

Izuku barked a laugh and Katsuki tried really hard not stare open-mouthed at his bright smile, but he had a feeling he was failing.

"He actually lives three doors down from me. UA owns that apartment building, so most of the teachers live there. You'll never guess how I found out where he lives though," Izuku said, grinning conspiratorially at Katsuki. He'd spent enough time with Ashido to know when he was about to get hit with hot gossip.

"Spill, nerd." Katsuki sipped his beer, grateful for their light back and forth. This night felt like a step in the right direction, no matter how innocuous the conversation. He wasn't sure they were equipped to handle a heavy heart to heart, but they could make fun of Aizawa for hours.

"You have to guess!"

"I can't even begin to wonder what that man does outside of the UA campus." Katsuki almost shivered at the thought of trying to imagine Aizawa as a normal person, doing normal person things, in normal civilian clothes. A brief flash of Aizawa in cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt permeated his thoughts. It was horrifying.

"I saw Miss Joke stumbling into his apartment at two in the morning."

"No fucking way."

"Fucking way, Kacchan. He was in Present Mic pajama pants and she _grabbed his dick_. And he didn't even try to make her leave."

"I always thought he was hooking up with Present Mic on the low. Somehow, Miss Joke is even more unbelievable."

"Believe it. I saw it with my own eyes. When I tell you I screamed…" Izuku trailed off, looking convincingly shell-shocked.

"Just goes to show there's someone for everyone. Even a hardass like Aizawa."

"Never took you for a sappy romantic, Kacchan." Izuku smirked. Katsuki never took himself for a sappy romantic either, but the shit he'd been thinking about lately would beg to differ.

"Yeah, well, I guess I've softened in my old age."

Izuku gave him a knowing look that melted into a soft frown. He tried to hide it by sipping his beer, but Katsuki saw it. He wondered if he was thinking about Shindo.

"I don't really believe there's someone for everyone. I think some people are meant to be on their own—or at least they do better that way."

Katsuki hoped he wasn't talking about himself, or about Katsuki. Katsuki had been on his own for a long time, and he enjoyed being alone, but some people were worth giving up space in his life for. He made allowances for Kirishima and Ashido and all the other people that'd refused to let him be alone over the years, but he'd never made allowances like the ones he wanted to make for Izuku.

For Izuku, Katsuki would give up the second closet in his apartment, half the drawer space in his dresser, the extra comfortable pillow on the good side of the bed. He'd clear space in the fridge for his shitty imported beers and make room for him on the couch every night for the rest of his life. He wanted Izuku as close as he could possibly be. He wanted to sit right next to him, even when there were other options. He wanted to touch and hold and protect him from whatever darkness inside him made him think he was better off alone.

"Why do you think that?"

Izuku shrugged and sipped his beer, mulling over his words. He let out a sigh, and tried to explain himself.

"You know, my mom never dated anyone after my dad left? Like, not even a casual pity date. I asked her why once, after I moved out, and she said she liked her life as it was. She liked doing things on her own time, being responsible for herself."

"But you have Shindo. Don't you think you'd be sad without him?" The second he said it, Katsuki wanted to vacate the bar and walk into traffic. What the fuck was he saying? Reminding him of his shitty boyfriend was not part of the plan to convince Izuku to date him.

"I'm very sad without him, but not in the way you might think. I never wanted to date him," he said, and he sounded like he was pleading guilty to a murder. Like it was a relief to get the words out in the open, but that relief came with a fuckload of consequences. Katsuki almost missed the fact that Izuku spoke in the present tense. What exactly did that mean?

"Why?" Katsuki asked, dumbly. Izuku had never been so open with him, and he craved more information.

"I don't necessarily think I'm better on my own, but its better not to inflict myself on people. People do better without me."

"If you really believed that you'd have never started sleeping with him," Katsuki said, calling him on his bullshit. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I started sleeping with him because he was there, and he didn't say no—and I really needed to get the fuck out of my head, if only for a little while. It could have been anyone."

Katsuki's brows furrowed more with every word. He knew Izuku wasn't okay, but he never imagined he could be so cynical and uncaring about both himself, and his relationships. He sipped his beer just to have something to do. It was warm and unfulfilling.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Not to double down on the boating analogies, but any port in a storm, right? You said you'd be a life raft, and you've always been honest with me, Kacchan. You don't lie to make anyone feel better. I need that." He smiled at him, but it was small and bitter.

"You like to lie to yourself. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"My therapist said it once, but he's shit, and I don't listen to him."

"Maybe you should get a new therapist."

"There's an idea. I think I should go home instead of drinking more. Sorry for subjecting you to the heaviest bar conversation in history."

"Can I walk you home?" Katsuki blurted out, unwilling to let him go. Izuku nodded, and they set off in comfortable silence. It was a short walk, as it was the last time he'd walked him home. This time was much more pleasant, and every now and then their hands would unintentionally brush, and neither of them jumped away from the other. He wanted to take his hand in his and refuse to let go. He wanted to kiss him on his doorstep and make plans to see him again in the very near future.

Instead, he kept his hands to himself, his stomach fluttering with nerves. They pause awkwardly in front of his door. Katsuki didn't delude himself into thinking Izuku would invite him in, but he didn't want their time together to come to a close when he disappeared behind the door. He let it go on for as long as possible. And then Izuku grabbed his hand and he briefly lost his shit wondering what would happen next. He didn't not expect Izuku to pull him into the shrubbery next to his door.

"The fuck?"

"Hush! Look," Izuku said, putting a finger to his lips. Ms. Joke was ambling up the walkway—not stumbling drunk, as she was in Izuku's story earlier—and used her own key to open what Katsuki assumes was his former teacher's front door. "Honey, I'm home!"

Two tendrils of his capture weapon flew out and wrapped around her and pulled her into the apartment. All they heard was Joke's raucous giggling before the door slammed behind her.

Izuku was giggling. "See, I told you!"

All Katsuki could think about was how close they were. Izuku's shoulder was touching Katsuki's chest, and he was close enough to smell his shampoo. He could feel the shaking from his laughter, and he looked so pretty to Katsuki that he briefly lost his mind when Izuku's eyes found his.

Katsuki planted a hasty peck on Izuku's cheek, and his conspiratorial smile melted into a look of shock and awe. In all the time since they'd reconnected, he'd never seen Izuku look so out of step.

"Uh," Katsuki said, rather elegantly. He was almost glad that Izuku swiftly ran away and bolted into his apartment because he didn't know what to say next.

Katsuki didn't quite know what to make of that.


	10. Supernova

SEPTEMBER

Izuku released a breath as the door clicked shut behind him. His cheeks were hot—he hoped Kacchan didn't notice. He felt overwhelmed. He never expected any of that. Especially after he said all that mopey, personal stuff at the bar. He found his hand was pressed to his cheek, right where Kacchan kissed him. As soon as he noticed he removed his hand and shook it out, like there was something sticky stuck to his fingertips.

The shake moved through the rest of his body as he shivered, trying to push away his intrusive thoughts. He let out an odd squeal, just to release his nerves.

"What the fuck?" He whispered. And then shook his hand out again when he found it creeping up to his cheek once more.

OCTOBER

Izuku sat in a plush purple armchair across from a woman dressed in beige. If he had to describe her in one word, it would be beige. Everything about her seemed to blend into the walls behind her.

"My name is Dr. Kagari."

Izuku nodded, nervous. He couldn't stop his foot from tapping, his hands from fisting and unfisting.

"Before we get started, I should tell you that I have a Quirk relevant to my profession. It's called Tension."

Izuku perked up, interested.

"What's it do?"

"I can see mental tension. It manifests like tangled clumps. Usually, they're in the brain, but they could easily manifest over a number of different vital organs."

"Where's my tension?" He asked, not really wanting to know the answer, but far too fascinated with her Quirk to think about consequences.

"Your heart, mostly. There are tendrils that run up and curl around parts of your brain, though."

Izuku nodded. "Do you feel what I'm feeling?"

She considered this for a minute, choosing her words carefully. "A bit. It's more like a ghost of a feeling than an actual feeling. It takes a bit of intuition to work it out."

"That's amazing," Izuku said, slightly more at ease. He could talk about Quirks all day.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me about yourself?"

"I'll be honest, I don't know how much progress we'll make. I feel like my last therapist was a dud, and he only made me feel worse. So, I apologize for what you're walking into in advance." He sighed. He didn't want to be rude, but he didn't want to be subjected to 55 minutes of bullshit again either. Dr. Kagari placed her hands in her lap and gave him a neutral smile.

"Midoriya, I don't know how it was with your previous therapist, but I'm not here to judge you. My job is to help you figure out why you do the things you do, and be at peace with yourself and your decisions. That's what I consider progress."

"So, if I say I don't want to be in a relationship, what would you say? Would you consider convincing me otherwise as progress?"

"I'd ask why you feel that way, but I'd also remind you that many people live perfectly normal and fulfilling lives without a romantic partner."

"What if I'm not living a perfectly normal and fulfilling life?"

"We'll take it one step at a time, Midoriya. I'd like to ask you some questions now, though."

"People have told me I'm good at deflecting," he said, and he'd only just realized that that was a deflection as well.

"The more honest you are, the better you'll feel, but I won't push you. Is there a person in your life you feel that you can be completely honest with?"

Izuku shook his head, and the motion seemed a little too frantic for his liking. He willed himself to relax.

"Not even yourself?"

_You like to lie to yourself. Anyone ever tell you that?_

"I think what I think is an honest assessment of myself is not what other people find to be honest. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. Would you like to give me your honest assessment?" Her placid smile was somehow simultaneously blank and encouraging. He wasn't sure how she did it.

"Are you going to try to talk me out of my honest assessment?"

"I'd rather talk you through it. We can unpack it together."

"Well, I'm Quirkless."

"Very likely the most famous Quirkless individual in the last 30 years."

Izuku grimaced.

"I'm more than that, though. I'm a person, and I'm smart and driven and I like to think I'm mostly kind. Or at least I used to be, I'm not so sure anymore."

"Do you feel that you have to work harder than others to prove yourself to people?"

"Yes. Every day."

She nodded. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Angry. Sad." He heaved a shuddering sigh. "Useless."

"How do you cope with those emotions?"

"I lean on the people who love me." _And I drink like a prohibition era flapper._

"Are you afraid that if you let people know how you feel, that they won't love you anymore?" She had a binder with a legal pad inside, but she was very discreet about her notes.

"Not really. I see it more as an inevitability now, so I may as well lean on them while I can."

"You said _now. _What led you to that conclusion?"

"I pushed someone too far, someone who loved me a lot."

"Did you love that person?"

That was the million dollar question. Izuku didn't know how to answer it.

—

"Welcome to the thirteenth annual Heroes for Heart Health Charity 5K! We're just about ready to start the race, so place your bets now!"

Katsuki stretched quietly, near the starting line of the race. The 5K was one of the only charity events he ever enjoyed participating in—mostly because he won it every year. People placed "bets," either in person on the day of the event or online, and the winning hero matched the betting money to donate double the funds to research for heart disease. Not only was it a good chance to prove his dominance, it was a chance for a good photo op before the hero rankings updated for the year. It was shameless, but it was also fun.

"Hi."

Katsuki looked up from his stretch at Izuku, looking unfairly handsome in a red Quirkless _tuxedo_ hoodie, and black thermal leggings. He'd seen very few men in his life pull off leggings, but Izuku managed it. He realized he was staring at Izuku's legs in complete silence for too long when Izuku cleared his throat. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his freckles stood out even more.

"Hey, I didn't know you were gonna be here," Katsuki said, clearing his throat.

"My students convinced me to do it. They also convinced me to give them extra credit if they donated to the charity." Izuku pointed over Katsuki's shoulder at the crowd of teenagers on the sidewalk. They cheered when he waved at them, and three students scrambled to hold up homemade signs. In succession, they read _Midoriya-sensei kicks ass._

"Language!" Izuku said, almost reflexively. Katsuki smiled at him. He was happy they'd glossed over their impromptu kiss entirely and went straight to being comfortable around each other again. Katsuki had spent a lot of time thinking about that kiss. He went back and forth on whether it was a good idea or not. He was glad it hadn't chased Izuku off entirely.

"Is Quake here?" Katsuki asked reluctantly. He hadn't shown up on Izuku's social media in a while, and Katsuki couldn't help but probe him for information about it. Izuku blew out a big sign as he leaned down to stretch his hamstrings. Katsuki stared at his legs again.

"We broke up, but I really don't want to make a big deal about it. The last thing I need is more negative media attention."

Katsuki had to resist the urge to shake Izuku's shoulders and ask him when it happened and why he wasn't notified immediately. Instead, he asked if he was okay.

"Jury's still out on that one. I think I'm getting there, though."

"Well, if you need to talk…" Katsuki started. The buzzer went off to let the heroes know it was time to line up, and Katsuki couldn't help but think he'd been saved by the buzzer.

"Alright, folks, the bets are in! Looks like the crowd favorite, once again, is Ground Zero! Can he keep up his five year winnings streak?"

The crowd rumbled and cheered and booed, just like every other year. Katsuki smirked and waved, doing his best to play to the fans.

"Don't get too comfortable, Kacchan. You've never had to race against me."

Katsuki's smirked broadens as he turns it on Izuku. He was never one to back away from a challenge.

"Game on, nerd." As soon as he said it, the pistol fired and they were off like a shot. They kept pace with each other easily, and there was only comfortable silence between them. They broke away from the rest of the heroes in the race by the end of the second kilometer, and by the third they were taunting each other. Every now and then, Katsuki would look over at Izuku. He looked good with a thin sheen of sweat on him, his curls bouncing around his head. After he'd barely saved himself from tripping over his own feet, he tried really hard _not_ to look at him.

At the last leg of the race, they were in a full sprint, and the crowd was going wild. He could see the end of the line, a cheesy ribbon across the path that they'd have to run through. Izuku's students were screaming at him, shaking their signs, and screaming profanities. Izuku sped up, pulling just ahead of Katsuki.

"No fucking way," Katsuki growled, and pushed to catch up with him. They were neck and neck as they crossed the finish line.

"A photo finish, folks! Who's our lucky winner?"

Katsuki couldn't be bothered to listen to the announcer's inane comments. They wouldn't announce the winner until every hero finished anyway. Izuku slowed to a stop, and bent at the waist, hands on his knees. Katsuki definitely didn't look at his butt.

"You're fucking fast," Katsuki said, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"So are you," Izuku said, grinning up at him. "But I totally beat you."

"Fuck off. No way."

"You'll see. I've toppled your winning streak."

Izuku's entire face was flushed from the exercise. His eyes were so bright and inviting Katsuki wanted to build a fucking summer home in them and take up residence immediately.

"Midoriya-sensei!" A gaggle of teen girls rushed him, their bulking signs waving in the wind.

"You were awesome! You're so fast," a bird-like girl Katsuki vaguely recognized said.

"Thanks, Haneyama. Did you make your donations?"

"Yes! The volunteer gave us a receipt too. Extra credit, here we come!"

Izuku smiled politely at his fangirls, saying something about how they wouldn't need extra credit if they paid more attention in class.

"Are you gonna cry about your loss?" A girl with shrewd, slitted eyes asked. The snakes in her hair hissed at him. Katsuki grimaced.

"We still don't know if I lost," Katsuki said, smug.

"You did. Gazo-chan has a photo Quirk." She pointed at one of Izuku's students. The girl in question waved back, and a lens popped out of her palm.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"It's okay, Ground Zero, I'm still rooting for you!" The bird girl, Haneyama, winked at him and not so subtly pointed between him and Izuku.

"Idiot! Quakeless is where it's at." The girl with snakes for hair bonked her feathered friend on the head, and they immediately started bickering about the pros and cons of both Quakeless and QuirkZero.

"Ladies, you're scaring Ground Zero. Thanks for coming out, but I'm beat. And apparently I have a medal to accept. Enjoy the rest of your weekend," Izuku said, effectively dismissing them. They waved goodbye and scurried off, still yelling about their handsome teacher.

"So, see you around?" Izuku said, bumping Katsuki's shoulder.

"Hope so."

Izuku's answering smile was radiant. The whole way home, all he could think about was Izuku's newly-single status. Maybe he had a chance now.

—-

Izuku was surprised by how much he missed Shindo. It almost felt like losing a limb. He felt like a bird, finally free from his cage after so long, ready to explore the vast openness before him, only to find he had a bum wing—and the world was too big for someone so broken to explore on his own. Still, he found himself feeling better every day. He owed a large part of that to his new therapist, but he couldn't discount Kacchan.

He found himself thinking about Kacchan in a better light every day—he found himself surprised by how much he thought of Kacchan in general.

Izuku scrolled through Winstagram, mindlessly liking posts. Somehow, through absolutely no fault of his own, he ended up on the QuirkZero tag page. There was a fair number of posts from the 5K. Them running together, mostly likely in the process of taunting each other. Some of them at the finish line trying to catch their breath. Someone got a pretty good picture of them talking to each other after they crossed the finish line. Something about the way they were smiling at each other made Izuku feel off. Like he got caught doing something inappropriate.

Kacchan was a schoolboy with a crush, as hard as that was to believe. It was flattering, but Izuku didn't really do crushes, and he'd rather saw off his own arms than be in another relationship again. He never wanted to feel that out of control or hopelessly trapped again. He never wanted to lose another person the way he'd inevitably lost Shindo. Kacchan was different, though. Somehow, Izuku knew he was different. He wanted to skip straight to the action without risking attachment, and he had a feeling Kacchan wouldn't mind. He seemed to understand Izuku without judging him. Shindo never understood. He always looked at him like he was broken—like he was something to fix. He was tired of thinking about Shindo. He was tired of thinking, period. On a whim, he called Kacchan.

"Hey, let's do something tonight. Come over."

—-

Katsuki didn't know what to expect when he arrived at Izuku's door, but it wasn't an invite inside. He figured they'd go for a walk, maybe end up back at the bar they always seemed to find themselves at. Instead, he fixed him with a searching look, and opened the door wider, wordlessly allowing Katsuki in.

Izuku closed the door behind him and the dark of the apartment enveloped them. Izuku tugged on Katsuki's sleeve, which wasn't nearly as romantic as holding his hand, but Katsuki wouldn't dream of complaining. He needed the guiding hand in the dark.

Katsuki'd only been inside Izuku's apartment twice, and he'd never been down the hall and into what he assumed was his bedroom. He wanted to see everything, take it in, and memorize it for lonely nights when Izuku wouldn't answer his texts. Turning on a light didn't seem to fit into Izuku's plans though.

The bedroom door shut behind him with a resolute _click_ and Katsuki's entire being thrummed in time with his hammering heart.

The lack of stimuli was stifling. He wanted to see whatever could possibly be coming because if he didn't see it, there was no way he would believe it. He had to stop himself from reaching out when Izuku let go of his sleeve, effectively abandoning Katsuki out in deep space. He felt as if he was trying to avoid startling a wild animal. Like Izuku would disappear if he moved too fast.

And then, without any fanfare, Katsuki felt warm lips push squarely against his haphazard mouth. He was nowhere near ready for it, but eventually he caught on, deepening the kiss. His hands found Izuku's hips, his body somehow on autopilot even though he knew fuck all about dating and kissing and where to put his hands. Despite his inner turmoil, the kiss was soft and warm and slow.

Kissing Izuku was like watching the birth of a universe, a big bang supernova. He could only hope Izuku felt a fraction of what Katsuki did.

"You know what this is, right?" Izuku murmured, and they were so close they were sharing breaths. Katsuki nodded, his lips caressing Izuku's cheek.

"You need to get out of your head."

"And that's okay with you?"

"Yes," he said, and he was surprised how rough and desperate his voice was.

When Izuku ran his hands up Katsuki's chest and wound around his neck to pull him closer and card his scarred fingers through his hair, Katsuki shivered. There was nothing better than this.

He was immediately proven wrong when Izuku started working the buttons of his shirt with deft, determined hands. Katsuki's brain short circuited around the time his third button came loose.

"Izuku—" Katsuki panted. His voice was little more than a frantic breath.

"Shh. It's okay, Kacchan." Izuku pressed a soft kiss to Katsuki's throat, his fourth button undone. "I've got you."

"I— Can we… light?" Katsuki had apparently been so frazzled by a few kisses that he'd devolved into sputtering half-sentences. He wanted to slap himself for being so embarrassing, but that would mean removing his hands from the skin of Izuku's back and that was unthinkable.

"No." Izuku's voice was a delicate whisper, but he made it clear he was in control. For once in his life Katsuki was more than happy to hand over the reins.

"Why?" Katsuki's asked, and then—where the hell did this boldness come from?—he added, "Wanna see you."

"No lights, Kacchan. Not tonight."

Katsuki resisted the urge to pout, and if he could spare enough blood and oxygen for his brain to function normally, he might be over analyzing if whether or not _not tonight _implied there might be more nights like this. Izuku finished his slow work with Katsuki's buttons and pulled his own shirt over his head without ceremony, tossing it away. Izuku's skin was comfortably cool against his—Katsuki always ran a little hotter than most people. It made him hungry in way he'd never known—hungry with the knowledge of exactly what he needed to be sated. Izuku was here, so tangible and touchable, and that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

They spent the night licking, kissing, biting, touching. Katsuki didn't know if Izuku was always so bossy and articulate, but he appreciated the instruction. He hoped it wasn't because Izuku could feel his fumbling inexperience. All he knew for sure was that if Izuku said jump, Katsuki would ask how high with little hesitation.

They didn't have sex, but they did enough to bring a dark blush high on Katsuki's cheeks when he woke in the morning, no longer in darkness, in Izuku's bed.

The morning light trickled through the blinds, casting lines of shadow over his muscled back and fuzzy bed head.

Katsuki wanted to trace constellations in the freckles of his back, kiss the bite marks and hickeys he'd sucked into existence on his neck, but he was painfully aware of how naked they both were. Even though Izuku had initiated everything, had been an active participant, Katsuki still felt like an intruder. He didn't know how much was too much in the light of day where it was harder to make foolish decisions and even more difficult to run away from the consequences.

Katsuki decided to enjoy this fragile peace while it lasted. Maybe Izuku would guide him again. Katsuki would do anything.

When Izuku rolled over and caught Katsuki staring, he gave a small, nervous smile. It was then that Katsuki noticed the burn scars on his chest and shoulders. And that the scar on his face ran all the way down to his hip bones. Katsuki wanted to trail kisses all the way down the long line of his scar and just keep going.

"I didn't want you to see my scars. Guess I can't really hide them in the light."

"Did I do that?" He asked, knowing the answer already. The burn scars were shaped vaguely like handprints.

"Don't think about them too hard. It was a long time ago," Izuku said, a surprising calm radiating off his exposed skin. "And look at us now. Who'd have thought?"

"You seem… relaxed." Katsuki couldn't pretend like he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Izuku asked, stretching off the dregs of sleep and rolling into Katsuki's personal space. Izuku pressed a kiss to his collarbone before going limp and starfishing, half on top of Katsuki. Katsuki was too preoccupied with trying not to pop a boner to say anything. Still, his body seemed to be acting of its own volition because he found his arms wrapping around Izuku's bare waist to preserve the contact.

"You seem nervous," Izuku observed. His voice was barely more than a hum he managed between kisses on his neck. Katsuki's face was on fire and he definitely had an erection. And probably morning breath. The thought kicked him into a full-fledged fight or flight panic. He wanted to punch Izuku in the face and run away screaming, but he also wanted Izuku to kiss him again.

"I feel… naked," he said, deciding that word most encompassed everything well. _Vulnerable _was too close to admitting a weakness.

"That's because you're naked, Kacchan." Izuku let out a breathy giggle. He could feel his breath on his neck making his hair stand on end. He was trying hard not to lash out under Izuku's teasing, but he was too keyed up not to snap.

"No shit, asshole." He hoped his fond smile and red face would cull some of the venom in his words.

"Besides, we've seen each other naked before." He laughed.

Katsuki didn't have the gumption to tell Izuku that there was a huge difference between stripping down to their skivvies to splash around in the creek behind his house when they were five and sucking each other off in his dark apartment.

"I don't really know what's going on," he admitted, sighing heavily, but trying hard not to breathe in Izuku's direction. He felt like he needed the parameters of what took place last night, and the conditions that needed to be met to get there again. And he desperately needed a toothbrush. And to move his raging boner so that Izuku wouldn't feel it pressing against his thigh.

"But I'm willing to defer to you on stuff like this." Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was being too vulnerable with Izuku but the thought of trying to be cool in the face of his big gay crisis seemed more exhausting than just letting Izuku see him. He wanted Izuku to see him. He didn't want to fight it.

Izuku laughed, soft and smileless, "I'll teach you."

"Right now?" Katsuki asked, his voice riding the line between hopeful and terrified.

"Not today. Come on, I'll make you breakfast."

Katsuki ended up making breakfast because Izuku was almost as bad at cooking as Katsuki was at intimacy.

—

And so it went on like that. Izuku letting Katsuki into his bed after a particularly rough day. He got the sense that Izuku's life was not nearly as full as he made it look on the internet. He got the sense that Izuku only called him when he was so lonely he couldn't stand not to. So often, Katsuki wanted to call him, and reach across the ever closing chasm between them and assure him that he didn't need to be lonely. Katsuki was lonely without him too.

Izuku guided him, taught him what he liked and allowed Katsuki to explore his own interests. It was a surprisingly easy give and take. Katsuki wanted more, but he was too terrified of losing what he already had to ever ask.

It wasn't always great. Izuku was distant in fits and starts. Sometimes he would go weeks without responding to Katsuki, only to careen back into his life at two in the morning with all the subtlety of rocket breaching the sound barrier. Sometimes they were so close Katsuki could barely stand it, his heart was so full and content just holding him. Katsuki never knew falling in love could be painful and wonderful at the same time. He thought they were mutually exclusive feelings.

He knew the other shoe would drop. He just didn't know when.

NOVEMBER

Izuku finally agreed to stay the night at Katsuki's apartment, and Katsuki couldn't help but feel like it was an all-important milestone. He seemed nervous to be in Katsuki's space, and he wandered around while Katsuki started dinner. He knew for a fact Izuku hadn't had a home cooked meal since he broke up with Shindo—probably not even before then either. Katsuki was ready to prove his date-worthiness to Izuku, and this was the first step.

"What's for dinner, chef?" Izuku asked, hugging him from behind and pressing his face into the soft space between Katsuki's shoulder blades.

"Something fancy," Katsuki said, doing his best to look back at Izuku without breaking the contact. All he could see was Izuku's bushy head of hair, and part of his bare legs and socked feet. He smiled.

"Really? 'Cause it looks like regular old katsudon to me." Izuku unburied his face from Katsuki's back to peek around his arm, inspecting the pots and pans on the stove.

"It's fancy because I'm making it, nerd."

"I'll be the judge of that. I'm a katsudon connoisseur, you know."

"Where are your pants?" Katsuki asked, flipping around in Izuku's arms to face him.

"Are you lodging a complaint?" Izuku asked, tracing the lines of Katsuki's chest with a fingertip.

"I wouldn't dare." Katsuki wound a lock of green curls around his finger. He wanted to kiss him, but Izuku was a bit skittish that night. Much of the time, Katsuki felt like he was trying to lure an animal from hiding. He found that when he tried to initiate anything even remotely intimate, Izuku backtracked and begged off until he was ready. Izuku had to come to him, but when he did, the wait was always worth it.

"I was trying to read the label on your body wash, and accidentally squeezed it out all over my jeans."

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, and Izuku shrugged.

"You smell nice."

Katsuki was surprised to find that very little embarrassed Izuku—if Katsuki ever got caught doing something a stalker might do, he didn't think he'd be able to carry it off with such grace, especially without pants on.

"I'll get you some for Christmas."

"Pants, or bodywash?"

"Yes," Katsuki said, smirking. He wanted to plant a kiss on the wrinkle between Izuku's furrowing brows. He resisted.

"You have a very nice smile, Kacchan."

"Can I kiss you now?"

"No," Izuku said, almost immediately. A bit of hurt pinched in Katsuki's chest. Izuku rolled his eyes. "Because the pork is burning."

"Motherfucker!" Katsuki whirled around, ready to save dinner. He tried to ignore Izuku's tinkling laughter. He was so easily distracted these days.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Go snoop around my bathroom some more, creeper."

"I've already seen everything I need to in there."

"My bedroom, then,"

"Your bedroom's no fun without you. I can wait," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. Katsuki dared to look at him again, and had to immediately look away. Bedroom eyes were distracting.

"Then go sit over there so I don't fuck up dinner." Katsuki knew his words were paramount to an admission, and judging by Izuku's crinkling eyes and soft laugh he knew that too. He held up his hands in surrender and walked back slowly. Katsuki stirred the rice. It was much easier to focus when Izuku wasn't touching him. It was easier to talk too.

"So how've you been? You've been kinda quiet this week."

"Did I tell you I started seeing a new therapist?"

Katsuki figured it was easier for Izuku to talk when he wasn't being watched as well. They'd had a lot of conversations like this is the last month or so, always in the dark. Pillow talk—Katsuki never had a reason to use that phrase until now.

"How's it working out for you?"

"I like her. She doesn't push me too hard or make me feel judged. It makes me want to tell her more."

Katsuki nodded, not really sure what to say. He wanted Izuku to keep talking. He didn't want to move for fear of spooking him.

"You're a lot like that, Kacchan. You're… different. That's—" A deep breath, the release of something heavy. "That's really important to me."

Katsuki burned the pork.

—

He woke with a start in a cold, empty bed. The bedside lamp was still on, and Izuku was nowhere to be found. He sat up, glancing at the clock. It was three in the morning. Had Izuku gone home, just up and left without so much as a goodbye? Katsuki couldn't help but feel hurt—and a bit cheap. And then he noticed the light coming from under the bathroom door. He pulled on his boxers quickly and padded across the room.

"Izuku?" Katsuki asked, lightly knocking on the door. No answer. He waited a few more seconds before he opened the door.

Izuku was sitting on the floor in Katsuki's baggy sweats, hunched over against the tub, his head in his hands. Katsuki moved slowly, trying his best to give Izuku space. He'd seen panic attacks before—he'd rescued plenty of anxious victims, talked them through their panic until the EMTs arrived. He wasn't that great at it.

"Hey, Izuku. Sit up, alright? Breathe," he said, speaking as softly as possible. Izuku didn't respond, probably couldn't. He was puffing our small, pained breaths. Katsuki put a hand on his bare back, and Izuku jumped at the contact, sitting up ramrod straight. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, looking at Katsuki but not really seeing. He pressed Izuku's hands to his chest, so he could feel his heartbeat and steady breath.

"Breath with me," he said, taking long, deep breaths in and out. For a long time, the only sound around them was Izuku's ragged breath, gradually slowing to match Katsuki's. Eventually, Izuku let his head fall against Katsuki's shoulder, and Katsuki brushed his hands through the Izuku's unruly curls. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to upend Izuku's fragile calm with superfluous words.

"Sorry," Izuku murmured, going almost completely limp against Katsuki.

"Does this happen a lot?"

Izuku shook his head, his hair tickled Katsuki's neck. "I changed my anxiety medication. I'm just… out of whack," he said, a bit breathy.

"Nothing wrong with that. Want some tea, or something?"

"Just sleep," he said, but he made no move to get up, didn't even twitch.

"Are we gonna sleep in the bathtub?" Katsuki asked after a prolonged silence.

"The bed, preferably. You might have to drag me there, though."

Katsuki kissed his hair. He really loved Izuku's hair. He was either growing it out again, or he was too busy to bother with haircuts.

"Say no more. I've got you, babe." They both stiffened at the pet name, and Katsuki hoped it was something Izuku would let him get away with. Even if it was just the one time. When he said nothing, Katsuki picked him up and carried him back to the bed. After they'd gotten situated, spooning each other, and Katsuki was beginning to nod off, Izuku started giggling.

"What?" He snapped.

"_Babe."_

Katsuki's face went up in flames. He bit Izuku's shoulder because it was the only thing he could reach without moving. Izuku yelped.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, and then, because he was a fool for Izuku Midoriya, he kissed the bite mark he left.

"I don't think I like that. What about _darling_, instead?" Katsuki's stomach flipped at the suggestion despite Izuku's deeply sarcastic tone.

"How about _dipshit?"_

"Oh, that's definitely a contender," he said, laughing lightly at Katsuki's expense.

"Goodnight, dipshit."

"Sweet dreams, asshat." Izuku turned his head just so, to kiss the arm his head was pillowed on. Katsuki was glad Izuku couldn't see his beaming grin.

—

"You're in a good mood today," Dr. Kagari said, a serene smile on her face. Izuku shrugged.

"I had a good night," he said, the beginnings of a smile coloring his words. He'd never felt so light and airy and warm for no reason. It scared him a bit that Kacchan could make him feel so much.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"A little," Izuku hedged, preparing himself to feel bare and exposed. He always hated the therapy session itself, no matter how nice Dr. Kagari was, but he couldn't argue with the results. He always felt better the second the session ended.

"Whenever you're ready, Midoriya."

"Well, I stayed at Kacchan's place for the first time last night. I thought it was going to make me antsy—it did, actually—but it was also really nice."

"Why did you feel antsy?"

"I can't really explain it."

"Please, try. I'll wait."

"I was afraid I'd feel… lost, out of my element, or something. I think Kacchan knew that though. I felt really keyed up at first, but he told me to just go look around while he cooked dinner, and that helped."

Dr. Kagari didn't say anything but she nodded evenly. She was really good about knowing when to be silent, or when to ask the one question that made him unravel.

"We just talked. I told him about our sessions, and he was so laid back about it. It made me feel laid back. I told him he was important to me."

"What does that mean to you?"

"It means what it means." Izuku said, dodging the question. She never let him dodge for long, though, and he had a feeling that was why they got on so well.

"Let me rephrase. What about him is important to you?"

"He makes me feel easy-going—which we all know I'm _not._ He doesn't push me to talk, or do anything I don't want to do. It's like he's keeping pace with me. You know, I had a panic attack in the middle of the night and he was there and he didn't make me feel like a burden. He made me feel safe."

"Do you think your panic attack stemmed from the change of scenery?"

"Maybe a little." He shrugged, knowing the action would prompt deeper questioning.

"We've talked a bit about your issues with control. Did staying with him make you feel like you might have ceded too much?"

"I don't think so. In the beginning it felt like that. Before, we were always at my house and I could kick him out whenever I wanted, but I never wanted to."

"Are you reconsidering your stance on romantic relationships?"

"I don't think so. Not right now. I don't know." That sounded like three multiple choice answers to one questions. They all sounded too indecisive. Before Dr. Kagari could ask another question, he added, "It's too soon for that."

And he felt the creep of anxiety take hold. He subsequently shut down, and Dr. Kagari politely changed the subject.


	11. Gravity

DECEMBER

"Hey," Katsuki said. He pushed a stray curl out of Izuku's eyes and traced a delicate line down his cheek. He'd been trying to pluck up the courage to ask him to come to the UA Christmas party with him for weeks now, but he always backed out at the last second. Katsuki had never feared rejection in his life, but now the thought of Izuku's pretty pink lips forming the word _no _seemed like the single worst thing that could possibly happen. He was running out of time, though, and he was going to fucking man up and do it. Today. _Now,_ he thought, putting a metaphorical foot down in his mind.

"Hey, yourself, handsome," Izuku said, stretching across the bed like a cat and burrowing himself into Katsuki's side. Izuku was always at his calmest during their post-coital snuggle sessions, and Katsuki figured this was the best moment to ask him.

"Would you like to be my plus one for the Class A Christmas party?" Katsuki said it in quick, frantic succession. He felt like he was facing a firing squad. He had to resist the urge to close his eyes, waiting for the bullet to burrow into his delicate, mortal flesh. Izuku's silence wasn't helping to ease the tension either.

"Um, I don't know."

Well, at least it wasn't a flat out no. Katsuki tried to release the breath he'd been holding in a way that Izuku wouldn't notice.

"Okay…. Can we expand on that?"

"You sound like my therapist," Izuku said, a light laugh ghosting across the skin of Katsuki's neck. He shivered, he couldn't help it.

"I wasn't trying to. I'd just like it if you came." Katsuki felt odd asking for something. In their three months of tentative non-dating, Katsuki hadn't once asked Izuku for anything. He was always sure to move at Izuku's pace. He hadn't realized how imbalanced their give and take was until that moment.

"Again? Well, if you insist," Izuku said, cutting off his own mischievous laugh when he kissed Katsuki's neck, his hand trailing slowly down Katsuki's stomach. His hand had just grazed across his hip bone when Katsuki came to his senses and stopped his hand from going any lower.

"Very funny." He interlocked their fingers and pulled their hands up to a safer, less distracting territory. "I'm being serious, though."

"I know, but I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Ready for what?" He asked, knowing exactly what he wasn't ready for. Something in Katsuki curled up in dejection.

"Well, it sounds a lot like a date."

"I believe I specifically said _plus one," _Katsuki said. He was very careful never to mention the D-word around Izuku. Nothing made him retreat quite like that word. Izuku raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Okay, then what does being your plus one entail?"

"We'll show up together, hang out with our friends, drink some punch—Ashido always spikes it, and Todoroki gets sloshed because no one tells him about it. Last year, he walked up to me, kissed me full on the mouth, and said he hated me—all with a straight face. To this day, I don't think he remembers it."

Katsuki was rambling, but it made Izuku smile, so it wasn't a total loss.

"That sounds like fun, Kacchan," Izuku said, a small concession.

"Uraraka and Iida will be there. When's the last time you saw them?" Katsuki felt like a used-car salesman, trying to sell him on every angle possible. He felt like he might be pushing too hard. Izuku sighed, and sat up on his elbow, extricating himself from Katsuki.

"Kacchan, why do you want me to go so bad?"

"I just think it would be fun. I like spending time with you, and I know you'll be with your mom for the holidays, so…." he said, trailing off because he was fighting a losing battle and he couldn't think of anything else to say. Izuku eyed him, pursing his lips like was thinking really hard about it.

"Fine. I'll go, but only because I want Todoroki to mouth-kiss _me."_ Izuku's smile was wry, and the slightest bit anxious. Katsuki rolled so he was on top of him, caging him in. Katsuki made an odd half-growl, half-laugh that sounded vaguely possessive.

"If anyone's going to mouth-kiss you, it'll be Ashido. She's creepily obsessed with you."

"I don't want to touch that comment with a ten-foot pole." Izuku's smile widened, and his hands traced the planes of his chest, collarbones, abs. Katsuki very nearly moaned.

"I can think of something else you can touch." Katsuki smirked, and Izuku scoffed, but he took it as permission to run his hands even lower. Katsuki did moan that time.

"Very smooth segue, Kacchan," he whispered sweetly against Katsuki's half-opened mouth.

And when they kissed, it felt like a perfect moment. Katsuki was excited. He felt like he won something—a holiday party with the person he loved.

If Katsuki's mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, he might've choked with surprise at the thought. _Love._ He turned the word over in his head, and firmly decided that was the only word that could ever accurately describe the way he was feeling.

—

The Class A Christmas party was a relatively quiet affair—or as quiet as it could be with Ashido in attendance. Everyone, barring Kirishima, Kaminari, and Jiro, was in attendance. Katsuki was never once for forced social interactions, but he took comfort in the fact that he had Izuku next to him. And the party _was_ fun, someone always made a fool of themselves in one way or another. It was interesting to see how everyone had changed, and how they were all the same. Even after years, all the little cliques they'd broken into in school held strong. And yet, some relationships got stronger. So many of his classmates paired off after school. Iida and Sero has been together since they were nineteen. Todoroki and Yaomomo dated all through high school and never broke up. He'd never paid so much attention to the way people look at each other, but he did now.

Now that he had his own method of comparison, he couldn't help but see the fondness in a person's eyes when they were looking at the one they loved most. He wondered if everyone could see it as clearly as he did, when they watched him with Izuku.

"Midoriya, what are you doing here?" Uraraka squealed as soon as they crossed the threshold of their old homeroom. She flung her arms around him, and he spun her around once before putting her back on the ground.

"Kacchan invited me. I've missed you," he said, a genuine smile breaking over his face.

"I know. It's rotten luck that I moved as soon as you finally moved to Musutafu."

"Not that rotten. You work with the top rescue agency in Japan. Congrats on making the top 10."

Uraraka beamed at him before her attention shifted to Katsuki.

"Kacchan, huh? The last time I saw you, you were eating a faceful of mat. Watching Midoriya kick your ass was a top 5 moment in my life."

"Well, you clearly have a very boring life then, Round Face. Quit crowding my plus one," Katsuki grumbled, pushing past her to get to the line of desks with snacks and punch, just for something to do. Izuku stayed behind, and he'd noticed Iida had joined their conversation. He'd never seen Izuku interact with anyone other than Shindo before, it was nice to see him so loosened up. It was nice to see the differences in the way he treated his friends, and the way he treated him. It cemented something for Katsuki. He knew Izuku cared for him, but it proved just how much. He was getting lost in his thoughts when Ashido sidled up to him.

"Boo!" She bellowed. Katsuki barely kept himself from jumping in surprise.

"Wrong holiday," he said, eyeing the shitty assortment of sweets on the desks. "The punch spiked yet?"

"Not yet. Sero and Shoji are on distraction duty. I'm waiting for the signal." She pointed as subtly as she could at Shoji's broad back, and Sero, gesticulating wildly in Aizawa's personal space. Shoji sprouted another arm on one of his tentacles, and it gave a thumbs up. Katsuki watched as a bottle of vodka seemed to materialize out of thin air and Ashido poured more than half of it into the deep red liquid.

"Where's Kirishima? I thought he was coming tonight."

"He got called in last minute. I told him not to wait so long to ask off, but you know him."

"Yeah, he can't plan for shit." Katsuki filled two plastic cups with the spiked punch, and held one up on Ashido's direction, clinking it with hers. "Cheers. Merry fuckin' Christmas, Pinky."

"Make sure you keep your boyfriend away from the mistletoe. I'll be waiting for my chance to plant one on him." She winked, and sipped her punch.

"He's not my boyfriend. And I've already warned him about you, so keep your hands to yourself." Katsuki hated denying the boyfriend title, but the truth was they weren't. At least, not at the moment. Katsuki was holding out hope, but he wasn't in any rush.

"No promises," she said, punching his arm as she passed by him.

Katsuki wandered over to the growing crowd of people harassing his… plus one—lover? Friend with benefits? He didn't have a name for what Izuku was to him, but he didn't need one. Izuku himself was enough.

"Hey, got you the good stuff," he said as he handed Izuku the extra cup of punch. Izuku took it with a grateful smile. Katsuki hoped he wasn't standing too close to Izuku.

Ashido pushed through the throng of people to place herself at Izuku's other shoulder, "And I've got more of the good stuff in my purse, if you need it. Ashido Mina, by the way. I'm a big fan."

Izuku shot her a mischievous smile and motioned to his cup, "More, please!"

Ashido was only too happy to dump a generous amount of vodka into his cup. It started to overflow, and they both giggled and hissed profanities, shooting looks at Aizawa in the corner. Katsuki smiled at the scene before him. He didn't give a shit if his friends liked Izuku or not, but the fact that they did filled him with pride. How could they not like him?

Izuku took a giant gulp from his cup and promptly winced, but shot Ashido an approving look once he recovered. After everyone's initial obsession with the newcomer passed, they all drifted back to different corners of the room, schmoozing and drinking with reckless abandon. Katsuki found himself alone much of the night. Izuku was popular, and more than happy to make connections. Katsuki would drift around him, picking up bits and pieces of the conversation. Mostly, he talked about his students. He'd heard both Shoji and Tokoyami agree to come to the school and talk to his General Heroics classes about dealing with Mutant Quirk discrimination. He spent a lot of time talking with Shinso, too, and Katsuki realized that they must be friends. They'd been working together for a long time. He wondered why Izuku never mentioned him.

Uraraka found him in the corner, sipping lightly on his drink. He was pleasantly tipsy, but starting to feel like Izuku might be deliberately avoiding him. He couldn't tell if that was the alcohol speaking, or if it was actually happening. Every now and then he'd catch Izuku's eye, and Izuku would smile at him the same way he did when they were alone. It was a balm to his nerves, but it wasn't exactly enough for him.

"So, you and Midoriya? I'm honestly surprised by that," Uraraka said casually. Katsuki and Uraraka weren't friends, by any means, but they had a certain amount of respect for each other. And he knew how much she cared for Izuku—he saw it in their friendly embrace earlier in the night.

"I just thought he'd have a good time tonight. Looks like I was right," he said, watching Izuku toss a piece of fudge into Sero's mouth from across the room—despite Iida's vehement protests. They both cheered and hugged when Sero caught it. Katsuki looked away when Sero grabbed Iida and stuck his tongue down his throat. Not even Iida could say no to the object of his affection. Katsuki wondered briefly how he'd managed to ignore all the love around him for so long. It was so glaringly apparent these days.

"Midoriya and Quake are done then?" She still tried to maintain her casual tone, but she sounded a little too desperate for information.

"I think you've known Izuku long enough to know that he doesn't want to talk about Quake, and it's not my information to spill."

"How noble of you. Seems like he's chosen well, then. I can tell you like him, even if you're not exactly together." Her choice of words had him whipping his head around to look at her, and she returned his gaze a little too knowingly. Katsuki looked away again and sipped his drink.

"I'm happy for you both, and I hope it works out. Midoriya deserves all the happiness he can come by." She paused, took a long sip of her drink, and said, "And I guess you do, too, you big grump."

"Ugh, get your shitty sentimentality away from me," he said, even though he was giddy and light on the inside. Validation was something he'd take from anyone willing to give it—it was even better that it was coming from one of Izuku's best friends.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know you're a big softy under all that machismo—Oh, look," Uraraka said, pointing to a very drunk Ashido. She'd run into Aizawa, and the near empty bottle of vodka fell out of her purse. Ashido was too inebriated to cover up her crime. Aizawa sighed.

"I know the punch is spiked. I've known it every year—you're not kids anymore. Just be responsible," he said, and sauntered away.

"It's _what?"_ Todoroki asked, staring from his cup to the punch bowl on the table in mute horror. Everyone in the room—even Yaomomo—howled with laughter. Katsuki gave a half-hearted chuckled, but he was more concerned about the fact that Aizawa was pulling Izuku away from the group. He caught Izuku's eye right before they left the room, and he looked like a scolded puppy. Katsuki had to resist the urge to follow them out.

—

"That was fast," Aizawa said without preamble once they were out of the room.

"What?"

"How long did you wait after breaking up with Quake before jumping into bed with the number 5 hero?"

"That's not—" Izuku started to defend himself, but Aizawa cut him off.

"Do you like making a spectacle of yourself?"

Izuku was silent, so taken aback, but he shook his head. His hands were shaking. He was having such a good night. Why, now, did Aizawa decide to scold him?

"Kid, you're far too talented and driven to have your career end as nothing more than a punchline in the pages of a magazine."

"I'm not—" But he was, wasnt he? A joke, a punchline. He had no real defense. Not even his students took him seriously. Aizawa reminded him of that on a daily basis.

"Get your priorities straight, Midoriya. You're a hero—and a teacher—not a reality TV star."

"If I'm so talented and special, then why I am the one getting blamed? Why aren't you talking to Kacchan like this?" Izuku knew he shouldn't shift blame to Kacchan. Izuku was the one who started everything, after all. Kacchan just went along with it.

"Because until he got involved with you, Bakugo had had a pristine reputation. He knows how to keep his drama out of headlines. He's easily one of the most prolific heroes of this generation, and he doesn't deserve to have his career tarnished either."

"Why do you think there's drama? Why can't I be happy? Kacchan is…. He makes me happy, okay? Why is that so bad?" Izuku asked, and he was all too aware of the wetness prickling in his tear ducts. Aizawa was probably the closest thing he ever had to a father figure, and now he was mercilessly reaming him out. Izuku couldn't feel anything other than deep-seated embarrassment, and maybe some soul-crushing desperation to win back the approval Aizawa never actually gave him.

"You can be happy without declaring your fickle love for each other all over Winstagram."

"When have I ever done that? That thing with Quake… I never wanted that. I _kept_ it from the media for so long."

"And then you didn't."

"So, you want me to be like you and Joke? Hiding in your apartment every chance you get?"

Aizawa looked like Izuku had punched him in the gut. He knew he'd hit below the belt, but Izuku was so hurt, and when he was hurt, he lashed out. He continued, digging himself deeper.

"You live three doors down from me. Don't think I haven't seen you two."

"My private life is just that—_private," _he said, all but snarling. He'd never seen Aizawa lose his cool, and Izuku was regretting pushing him that far.

"Out. I'm done with this conversation." Aizawa dismisses him coldly, and Izuku refused to stand his ground. He left, thankful to have the conversation done with. He rubbed his eyes, hoping none of his stupid, childish tears actually spilled. He didn't want to go back to the party, so he paced the halls trying to get himself under control.

"Midoriya," a soft, deep voice permeated the hallway he'd hidden in. Izuku rubbed his eyes one last time, and put on a brave face.

—-

Izuku and Aizawa were gone for far too long for comfort. Each moment agitated Katsuki, and he found himself unable to join in the general merriment of the rest of the group. When Aizawa discreetly came back in the room sans Izuku, Katsuki's worry spiked further. He excused himself to find Izuku, feeling a little frantic.

After a few hasty minutes of searching the halls, he found Izuku in a stairwell. With Shinso.

Katsuki tried not to feel possessive, he really did. He tried to take comfort in the fact that Izuku wasn't alone when he was obviously upset. He was friends with Shinso—colleagues even, and Shinso and Aizawa always had some weird mind meld with each other. Maybe hashing it out with Shinso _was_ the best course of action, Katsuki's jealousy be damned. There was no gratuitous touching, or anything untoward happening, and yet, all Katsuki could think was _why wasn't it me? Why wasn't I the person you came to?_

"Hey," he said softly. Izuku jumped when he spoke. Shindo seemed to expect him. He and Katsuki exchanged looks, it was like the eye contact equivalent of passing a baton.

"It'll be okay, Midoriya. I'll see you later, alright?" Shinso said, and he clapped Izuku on the shoulder in his awkward, blatantly platonic way. It assuaged someone Katsuki's selfish worries. When Shinso was out of earshot, Katsuki moved closer to Izuku.

"What happened?" He placed his hands on Izuku's drooping shoulders. He ran his hands up and down his arms, in a sad attempt to comfort him. Izuku shook his head, but he allowed the contact.

"I just want to leave."

"I'll go with you. I'm not a fan of prolonged social exposure anyway." Katsuki gave him a sympathetic smile, and Izuku seemed to crumble further. He put his hands in the pockets of Katsuki's slacks and pulled him close.

"Thank you," he said, his head buried in Katsuki's chest. He carded a hand through Izuku's curls, and kissed his head for good measure.

"Want to get some real food before we head home?" Katsuki asked, thinking of all the shitty, insubstantial sweets at that table. Izuku must be hungry.

"Can we call for takeout instead?"

Katsuki chuckled and held him closer, so thankful that he got to hold and comfort Izuku. He'd been hungry to touch him all night, but he wished he wasn't so distressed.

"Let's go home," he said, not specifying who's home, but knowing all the same that they were heading to the same place, and wherever Izuku was was as good as home to him.

He was silent the whole way back to Katsuki's apartment, aside from the call he made to order a feast of Indian food. The only time they spoke to each other was when Izuku asked him what he wanted. The fact that they Ubered back to the apartment prevented him from holding his hand on the way home.

When they were finally alone, Katsuki pulled him into him, and Izuku didn't protest. Izuku cleared his throat, and spoke into his chest.

"Let's keep this to ourselves from now on," he said, and then added, "Please."

—-

"I wasn't trying to parade you around to my friends, or anything. I really thought you'd have fun tonight. What the hell happened?"

Izuku wanted to tell Kacchan everything. Up to that point, he'd been very honest with him about every little thing that popped into his head. This was too embarrassing to put out into the universe. He couldn't rehash it with Kacchan for fear of giving Aizawa's accusations any more power. He didn't want to think about _tarnishing_ Kacchan. He didn't want to linger on the fact that maybe he didn't want to keep whatever they had a secret, he didn't have a choice.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, and he must've sounded as exhausted as he felt because Kacchan let it go easily. For once, they didn't have sex. Neither of them seemed to be in the mood, even if it would've helped Izuku to stop thinking. Instead, they laid face to face with their heads pressed together, lips occasionally brushing until they drifted off. Izuku felt like he could breathe Kacchan in, and that was a small comfort. He never knew he could feel so much by doing so little.

Izuku woke to the sound of a heavy metal guitar. He physically jolted out of bed, mumbling something incoherent he might've been saying in his dream only seconds ago. Kacchan woke much more peacefully, despite the raucous cymbal-bashing happening around him. He gave a long, languid stretch before he turned off the alarm.

"_That's _your alarm?" Izuku asked, puffing out shaky breaths. Kacchan had the gall to chuckle.

"If it's not obnoxiously loud, I won't get up right away," he said, pulling on Izuku's wrist to bring him horizontal again.

"I think I'm having a stroke. Holy shit. What time is it?"

"A bit before six." He wrapped his legs around Izuku and kissed his neck. Half-asleep Kacchan was always handsy and affectionate. Izuku allowed himself a small smile, despite the fact that the shock of the alarm had his heart beating frantically.

"What time do you work today?"

"Eight. I'll be back at one."

"I guess I should go, then?" Izuku asked. Kacchan's arms tightened his hold.

"You don't have to. I could leave you my key. Take your time—restart your heart." He chuckled again and kissed his cheek. Kacchan's palm pressed against Izuku's chest, feeling his stuttering heartbeat. Somehow, once his heart went back to normal, he fell back asleep. He half-registered a fully-dressed Kacchan kiss his hair before he left.

"Just take the key with you when you go. I'll pick it up after work."

Izuku's only response was to pull the covers up around his neck. He was pretty sure Kacchan laughed again. It was a great send-off.

When he woke again, he was surprised to find that it was nearly 11. Izuku rarely slept in so late. Usually, it made him feel groggy to sleep for long. Instead, he felt refreshed. He made himself a cup of coffee with Kacchan's fancy coffee-maker, in his fancy kitchen. He liked Kacchan's apartment. He moved about the space in a familiar way, savoring the quiet and the natural light streaming in from the high-rise picture windows. He found that he didn't want to leave, so he didn't.

When Kacchan called him at 1:30, he was still in Kacchan's baggy sweats and an Earphone Jack tank top. He'd wrapped the cashmere throw blanket on the couch around him, and settled on the couch with a well-worn copy of The Little Prince—the thinnest book on Kacchan's neat shelves.

"How was work?" Izuku asked.

"Quiet. Where are you?"

"On your couch," Izuku said, twirling the loose threads on the end of the blanket around his finger.

"Really?" Kacchan sounded surprised, but Izuku also detected a hint of contentment. Izuku smiled.

"Yes, really. I have a weakness for fine home furnishings," he said, in as pragmatic a tone as he could manage.

"You sure it's not a weakness for something else?"

"Fishing for compliments, are we?"

Kacchan laughed. "Maybe a little. I'll see you soon."

—

The door was unlocked, just as Katsuki left it this morning. Despite the dreary December weather, Katsuki felt warm and light when he entered his apartment. When he saw Izuku curled up on the couch in a nest of pillows and that stupid throw his mom made him buy, the feeling intensified. He went straight to him, pulled into orbit again. Katsuki was inexplicably tethered to Izuku in a way he'd never been by anyone or anything else. Nothing could keep him away. Izuku came with his own gravity, and Katsuki responded to it without a fight. He settled on top of him because he could quite tell where Izuku was under his mountain of throw pillows. Izuku gave a light _oof_, but he didn't complain.

"Welcome home," Izuku said softly. He seemed calm, like he belonged there—a permanent fixture among Katsuki's scant possessions. He kissed his nose.

"I like coming home to you," Katsuki said, unable to think of scaring Izuku away because he was plagued by fuzzy feelings. Like clockwork, he could feel the small uptick of anxiety in the air. The little warning bell that said _too much, too soon._ In so many aspects of their relationship, they moved at the speed of light. In others, they were crawling. Katsuki didn't mind it so much, he was happy with their tentative, nameless existence with one another.

Katsuki eyed the book on the coffee table. His dad's copy of The Little Prince sat unopened next to an empty coffee cup.

"Did you read it?"

"I only got as far as looking at the pictures. Is it a children's book?"

Katsuki shook his head, but his words contradicted the action. "It could be, but I don't think a kid would really appreciate it. I didn't appreciate it the first time I read it."

"When was that?"

"My dad made me read it when I was fourteen. Pretty much right after you moved away," he said, reaching for the book. Katsuki felt uneasy discussing the past. They never talked about. Whenever Katsuki tried, Izuku would clam up, say he didn't want to talk about it because it didn't matter.

"He made you? I can't imagine anyone telling you what to do at that age."

No one could tell Katsuki anything at that age—it was still a major feat for most people these days, but his dad always had a certain way with him and his mom. He always did things so gently, you almost didn't realize he was guiding you until it was too late.

"I had a tough time after the sludge villain attack. I was angry that I needed to be saved—and then you were just _gone,_ and I was angry about that too. I thought I deserved and explanation from you, or something. Then, I started UA, and I wasn't a big fish in a small pond anymore." Katsuki never thought too much about the past until recently. He couldn't know if he was retroactively applying his fondness for Izuku to those memories or not. He never let himself reflect on his feelings for too long when he was younger. Everything was anger and rage with no nuance.

"Anyway, my dad sat me down and told me that every young person should read this book at least once. I've read it about a thousand times since then."

"What's so special about it?"

"I don't know. It just is. It's about growing up, among other things. You should take it home with you. I think you'd like it."

Izuku smiled at him, and plucked the tiny book from his hand. "I'll consider it an early Christmas gift then."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Izuku shook his head, looking sheepish.

"Idiot. Come on, I'll make you lunch." Katsuki stood up, and Izuku unearthed himself from the mountain of blankets.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome. I should probably head home."

"Don't be stupid. You can stay as long as you want. Stay all night." _Stay forever,_ he thought. Katsuki genuinely wouldn't mind.

"Alright. Only because you begged, though." He smiled, and then it dropped and he added, "And change that horrible alarm!"

FEBRUARY

Kacchan was on top of him, caging him in. He couldn't quite remember when Kacchan gained enough confidence to do that in the few months they'd been sleeping together, but he wasn't opposed to it. Sometimes, when Kacchan took charge like this, he unwittingly thought of Shindo. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but compare them. It was like trying to compare seahorses to dragonflies, so different that felt silly for even trying. Kacchan kissed him, their moments pleasure finally passing into post-coital doting.

"I love your freckles, and your hair, and the way your nose crinkles when you think I'm being stupid," he said, so light that it was almost just a breath shared between them.

Izuku knew what Kacchan was really saying when he said those things. He knew he was hedging around the thing he would rather say, but kept it to himself for fear of scaring Izuku.

Izuku waited for that inevitable feeling—for the cage to fold around him and suffocate him until he couldn't stand to be around him, but it never came. When Kacchan said those things, it felt right. It felt true. It felt like coming home.

Something about that scared the shit out of Izuku. It was almost worse than the cage because what if that feeling went away? What if he stopped feeling giddy and love struck and whole? What if Kacchan stopped saying those things? What if the cage closed around him even tighter?

What did he ever do to deserve so much affection, and who was he to enjoy it? Where would he be when it inevitably soured? Izuku couldn't afford to be broken, not anymore than he already was. And suddenly he was crying. How could he ever explain any of that to Kacchan?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Katsuki brushed his hair off his face to better see his shame.

"I'm just… I don't know. I'm having a moment," he whispered lamely. It came out like a whine.

"It's alright. Have your moment. I'll be here." Katsuki kissed his eyelids and his cheeks where the tears ran down his face, and the nose he claimed to love so much before he placed the sweetest kiss on his lips.

Izuku wanted to be caged in by this kind of affection. He wanted to stay there and wallow for days, subsisting purely on Kacchan's kisses and sweet nothings. He wanted to take it all in and memorize it because, really, how long could this last? Everything ran its course eventually.


	12. Black Hole

JANUARY

Izuku had completely forgotten about his borrowed copy of The Little Prince until he'd unearthed it from the bottom of his overnight bag over a month after Kacchan had lent it to him. He'd been so distracted during the holiday break and visiting his mom—and the awkward run-in he had with Shindo on a last minute grocery trip—that he'd hardly thought of the book at all. He'd hardly thought of anything at all, really, aside from his newly discovered, terrifying attachment to Kacchan and what that meant for him, and bending over backwards to avoid Aizawa at work.

He hadn't spent more than an hour or two at a time at his apartment in weeks. He'd all but moved in with Kacchan, and when he realized that he made a conscious effort to reverse that as much as possible. In the nick of time, Kacchan's agency ramped up his hours. He was working a double that day, and Izuku decided it was the perfect opportunity for a little alone time. What better way to start that than with some light reading?

Izuku finished the book quickly. It really was very short. He mulled over everything he'd read, and felt like he was missing something. What did Kacchan find in the pages of this book that had him so moved that he'd read it a thousand times? He read it cover to cover two more times, searching the worn pages for clues. It was beautifully written. Simple, but poignant in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It made him yearn to be young again, so he could see things the way the little prince did. Izuku tried to puzzle out his feelings, to discover what resonated with him about the characters in the book. At times, he felt like he could've been any of them, whether they be human, flora, or fauna, but he couldn't—or maybe wouldn't—say exactly why.

Was he the flower, selfishly grooming himself and growing superfluous thorns that wouldn't save him in the end? Or was he the fox, unable, but not entirely unwilling to be tamed, even for a short time? Was he any of those awful grown-ups, blustering on about matters of consequence? Maybe he was just the boa constrictor masquerading as a hat, or perhaps the elephant inside it. He'd worked himself into a frenzy for no apparent reason, so much so that he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He wanted Kacchan. He wanted to know why this book was so special, and what it said about him—what it said about them.

He let himself into Kacchan's apartment—he'd given him a key for Christmas, along with a pair of pants and bodywash, just like he'd promised. He almost never used it, the implications that came with having a key to his apartment made him jittery and nervous. But I'm already jittery and nervous tonight, so who cares? Not him. Certainly not Kacchan.

He'd only had to wait about twenty anxious minutes before Kacchan came through the door, wet from the agency shower and dead on his feet.

"Hey," Kacchan said, a smile instantly lighting up his face. He stood a little straighter when he saw him, and threw his gym bag down by the door. Izuku held up the book.

"Which one am I?"

Kacchan's eyebrows knit together, a silent question. Izuku repeated himself.

"Which one? Who am I in this book?"

"What do you mean?" Kacchan came closer to him, pulled Izuku into his arms. Who was he to fight it? He buried his face in Kacchan's neck, but only for a second.

"Am I the flower, or the fox? Am I the grown up who gave up his dreams because it was more impractical?"

"What are you talking about? You're just you. Why are you so upset? You didn't like it?" Kacchan loosened Izuku's death grip on the book and tossed it onto the nearest flat surface before he cupped his face in his hands, tilting his head up to look at him. Izuku shook his head as best he could.

"I liked it. I read it three times, but I couldn't figure out why it was so important to you."

"Well, what did you like about it?"

"I liked the part about the sunsets. And the picture of the baobabs, and flying away on a flock of birds."

Kacchan smiles softly at him. He began running his fingers thought Izuku's hair. It made him feel warm.

"I like the little prince because he saw things in a way I never would've if I hadn't read the book."

"You're like him. You know what's important. I feel like I don't know anything," Izuku said, his voice a breathy sigh.

"I think you know more than you realize. Be patient with yourself." Kacchan's thumb grazed the puckered skin of Izuku's scar and kissed the space between his furrowed brows, willing the knot to loosen.

He hoped Kacchan was right. He hoped he understood what Kacchan was trying to say, he hoped he knew why that book and those flawed characters resonated so deep within him. He hoped this was Kacchan's way of telling him that everyone deserved to love and be loved, even the sly, untamable fox and the preening, capricious flower. Izuku hoped he deserved love as much as they did. He hoped they could be patient with each other while they figure it out. When Kacchan kissed him, it felt like an answer. It felt like a yes.

APRIL

"Midoriya, your doom and gloom is suffocating. Aizawa and I are supposed to be the surly, unapproachable ones, not you," Shinso said, taking the seat next to Izuku in the teachers lounge. Izuku would admit that he'd been less than excited during work hours, but he'd hardly describe it as doom and gloom. His working relationship with Aizawa hadn't improved since December, but that was mostly because Izuku promptly left the room anytime Aizawa entered it. He couldn't even look at him without feeling awful, gut-churning shame. Izuku gave Shinso a withering look, and he rolled his eyes.

"You're still fighting with Aizawa?"

"I wouldn't call it a fight," he muttered. Fighting required speaking. Fighting required being on equal ground, and Izuku was leagues below him.

"If you told me what your fight was about, I could probably help, you know," Shinso said, probing for information. He'd been trying to find out since that night, but he wasn't too keen on sharing his shame with Shinso. Shinso was nice, and relatively non-judgemental, but he was also just as bluntly direct as Aizawa. He couldn't handle knowing whether or not Shinso agreed with Aizawa. Izuku shook his head, his mouth a hard line. Suddenly, Shinso grabbed Izuku's face, squishing his cheeks to the point that his lips puckered up.

"Wha—" Izuku had a hard time speaking, squished as he was.

"I'm not letting go until you cheer the fuck up," Shindo said, smirking at Izuku's obvious discomfort and confusion.

"I'm cheery," Izuku deadpanned, but the effect was lost in his inability to speak clearly.

"Smile, then. I dare you."

"What are you, twelve?"

"Yeah, if you need a backstory. We're at your thirteenth birthday party playing truth or dare. I just dared you to smile." Shinso gave his own wide, disingenuous smile, and it looked so out of place on his pale, tired visage that Izuku laughed. At his smile, Shinso loosened the hold on his face just enough to allow it free.

"That's better. No more sulking, alright? It's unbecoming of a hero."

"You sound like Iida." They both laughed, and Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't feel better. And then Kacchan walked in, and his good mood was bolstered by his unexpected presence.

"Hey." He smiled. "What are you doing here?"

Kacchan stood across the room with a wrapped bento in hand. Izuku found it odd that he hadn't come any closer. He looked a bit disgruntled. He was staring at Shinso, his brows drawn low over his eyes.

"'Sup, Bakugo?" Shinso drawled.

"Am I interrupting something?" Kacchan snarked, and Izuku was reminded distinctly of Shindo whenever he brought up Kacchan for no reason. And then it clicked. He was jealous.

"Just trying to cheer Midoriya up," Shinso said, clearly unfazed by the daggers Kacchan was attempting to shoot from his eyes. Izuku stood up to go to Kacchan because he was apparently frozen.

"What's that?"

"I brought you lunch," he said, finally turning his gaze on Izuku. He smiled gratefully, and took the proffered bento and unwrapped it from the orange cloth. It was Ground Zero-themed. Izuku thought it was really cute, and that if Kacchan wasn't clearly in a bad mood, he might be blushing at the idea of gifting his own merch.

"Thanks."

Kacchan was still occasionally looking at Shinso, who couldn't care less and was scrolling through his phone. And then Kacchan tried to kiss him, and Izuku instinctively turned his cheek. What if Aizawa walked in, or a student?

"Kacchan, I'm at work," he said, chiding him lightly. Kacchan ignored him.

"What was that? With Shinso, just now."

Izuku shrugged. "I don't really know. I thought it was weird too, but it did cheer me up."

"He was touching your face."

"Squishing it—platonically," he said, feeling awkward about even needing to clarify that.

"I'm not allowed to touch you like that in public. Why does he get to?"

Izuku looked at him, utterly incredulous. He couldn't fathom why they were having a conversation like this at all, let alone at his place of work. The beginnings of anger and annoyance needled his insides. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Not since Shindo. And so, what he said next wasn't smart.

"You're not my boyfriend, Kacchan. And I don't find jealousy attractive. You're acting like Shindo used to."

"Don't compare me to him," Kacchan said, and it was almost a growl.

"Why not? You're acting like him. For no reason, might I add."

"Because I'm a different person, and you can't project your past failings onto me," Kacchan snapped.

Ouch. His heart squeezed painfully at Kacchan's words. Izuku felt something inside him wither and retreat. Aizawa's harsh critique of all Izuku's flaws rang in his head again.

"I think you should go now. I don't want a scene."

"This isn't a scene. We're talking," Kacchan said, and the hurt in his voice was apparent, even if it was hidden under a layer of incredulity. And then Aizawa walked into the lounge, and everything went from bad to worse. Izuku shut down, and even though he knew he'd be kicking himself about it later, he said, "I don't have time for this. This is why I never wanted anything like this in the first place. Just go."

Katsuki sucked in a breath like he'd been sucker punched. The worst part was that Izuku didn't even have the decency to look at him when he'd abruptly ended their first fight and dismissed him. He was looking over Katsuki's shoulder, and when Katsuki turned around, he saw Aizawa in all his sleep-deprived misery leaning in the doorway with a look of self-satisfied disapproval.

"Right. Okay. Well, you can keep the bento. I got it for you." He scratched the back of his head, looking to the tacky Ground Zero bento. He instantly regretted having the gall to gift his own merch. He started to walk away because he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't get out of there immediately. "See you around, Izuku."

Katsuki shoved passed Aizawa on his way out, refusing to give a shit about being a dick to his former teacher. Izuku said he didn't want to be in a relationship, but he knew that was bullshit. He could read Izuku like a picture book. He could see the inner turmoil, the constant struggle between what he told himself, and the way he felt. Katsuki hadn't been imagining everything. They'd been tiptoeing around their real feelings for a long time because Izuku wasn't ready yet, but he could see him warming to the idea of having a boyfriend to lean on with every passing day. They were dating in all but name, but Izuku refused to see it that way.

And now they were in a fight. Katsuki had never been so angry with Izuku—not since they'd reconnected, at least. He never wanted Izuku to see that side of him again. He never wanted him to feel unsafe or unsupported around him, and he'd let something as inconsequential as Shinso be the breaking point. They were just so close, and all Katsuki could think was mine. Katsuki was a fucking idiot, but Izuku wasn't much better.

A week went by, and Katsuki hadn't received a call or text from Izuku, but then again, he hadn't reached out either. He wanted to, but every time he started to, Izuku's words permeated his thoughts.

You're not my boyfriend, Kacchan.

That wasn't for lack of trying. This wasn't entirely Katsuki's fault, and somehow calling him seemed like an admission of guilt. Besides, he didn't want things to be like that. He didn't want Izuku pulling away and throwing that in his face every time things got tough. So, he waited. Let Izuku come to him. He always came to him eventually, and it was always worth the wait. He always let Izuku set the pace, so why change tack now?

Friday rolled around again, and both of them always had Saturdays off. Katsuki couldn't remember the last time he spent a Friday night without Izuku, and now it looked like he would have two consecutive Fridays alone under his belt. And then, blessedly, his doorbell rang. He hastened to the door at a desperately quick pace, but he couldn't be bothered to feel lame about it. Izuku was back. He was ready to talk. He opened the door, his heart in his throat.

"You have a key, you know," he said, a bit awkward, as a greeting.

"Do you want it back?" Izuku asked, and all of Katsuki's internal organs dislodged from their proper places and sank to his gut.

"Why would you ask that?" he very nearly snapped. Izuku flinched slightly. He could tell he tried to hide it, but he was unsuccessful.

"You're mad at me."

"And you're mad at me. That doesn't mean anything when—" Katsuki shut his mouth abruptly before he could say when we love each other. It wasn't the right time for that. Instead, he said, "This is normal. People get mad, and they fight, and then they get over it."

"Are you over it then?"

Not by a long shot, he thought, but he knew he couldn't say that. Katsuki felt like he was skating across cracking ice, and one step in the wrong direction would end with him suffocating in freezing water.

"I'm ready to talk about it, so we can get over it," he said slowly, like he was trying to explain something to a child.

"What if I'm not?" He asked, and Katsuki felt the ice give weigh and drop out from under him. Was this really the end for them? Over something so fucking stupid he regretted ever bringing it up?

"Call me when you are, I guess," he said, even though he wanted to take the words back as they were falling out of his mouth. His head was full of warning bells. They screamed this is how you lose him over and over again, but if a petty argument was enough to break them, were they ever capable of being anything more?

"I—Can't I come in?" Izuku asked, looking thrown by Katsuki's unwillingness to let things slide. Katsuki knew that if Izuku came in, they'd end up making out on the couch, and then their clothes would be strewn all over the apartment, and Katsuki would end up so thoroughly hypnotized and wrapped up in him that he'd lose his resolve. He didn't want to hide behind sex anymore. It wasn't enough.

"I'm actually on my way out," he said, the lie scraping out of him, smooth as sandpaper. Izuku eyed his incriminating pajama pants, clearly not convinced. He sighed, seeming to give up and give Katsuki the benefit of the doubt. Katsuki's couldn't meet his eyes for fear of giving in.

"Alright. I—" A frustrated sigh. "Okay," he said. He pecked Katsuki on the cheek before he made his retreat, and Katsuki watched him go with a sickening ache in his chest. It was not supposed to be like this.

MAY

Another month went by and Katsuki legitimately felt like he might be dying. He had a peculiar ache that plagued him constantly. It roamed around, switching between his chest and his gut and Katsuki just wanted it gone. He wasn't stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with the fact that Izuku hadn't acknowledged his existence since he showed up at his apartment just over a month ago.

He could feel the fuck off energy seething from his pores every time he was forced to interact with anyone, but he couldn't stop. He was a man possessed and it was his own stubbornness that got him into this situation.

"Dude."

"What," Katsuki said, nearly snarling at Kaminari as he sat down at his lunch table.

"You're spiraling. Tell Dr. Denki what's bothering you, so you can stop scaring all the other Pros."

"If I'm scaring Pros, they're in the wrong fucking profession."

"Textbook deflection. So what is it? Did you reconnect with your long, lost twin? Murder? The octopus complex?"

"Murder. I'm seconds away from committing it," he said, breathing through his nose to try to keep some semblance of composure. Then, because he couldn't let Kaminari's idiocy slide, he said, "And it's called the Oedipus complex, you absolute fucking dunce."

"Look, I get it. Your mom is super hot for her age, but—"

Kaminari was cut off my two rather large explosions. Katsuki hadn't had so little control of his Quirk since middle school. His short fuse was shorter than ever and as a hero in his prime his lack of restraint was embarrassing. Clearly, Kaminari was too stupid to be worried because he laughed it off.

"I'm joking, man. Come on, is it about your secret boyfriend?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Everyone else does! We're not as dumb as we look. Especially Mina—she can smell romance a mile away. Combine that with Sero's impeccable gaydar and the insatiable media coverage you get and you really never stood a chance."

Katsuki was turning red, mostly from anger, but also from slight embarrassment. He couldn't guess what the media was cooking up, and he had no desire to have his private life under a microscope. He hadn't been keeping up with social media. After he started sleeping with Izuku there was no need to check up on him because he actually told him about his life, and there was nothing better than getting that information first-hand. And now, he was ignoring social media for fear of what he might see. The one time he did look, he saw that Quake was in Musutafu. Katsuki spent that entire day beating the shit out of (and breaking) three punching bags.

"Keep your voice down," Katsuki grumbled.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Kaminari patted his hand awkwardly. Katsuki gave him a withering look.

"I'm not ashamed. I'm intensely private and your voice carries." Katsuki pouted, crossing his arms to stifle the tiny popping explosions he made.

"Idea!" Kaminari snapped his fingers and a spark of lighting lit them up. Katsuki imagine a lightbulb turning on above his head.

"Game night. Tonight. No excuses. We haven't had one in forever and I haven't had a meal that didn't come out of a box in ages."

"What does that have to do with game night?"

"You always cook! That's the only reason Jiro and I come over. I love her dearly, but she could mess up soup and I'm not much better."

"Soup can be complicated," Katsuki said, coming to Jiro's defense. He always liked her because she teased Kaminari mercilessly when they were in school and her playlists were badass.

"I'm talking about the kind you get from a can and heat in the microwave."

"Oh."

"We're getting off-topic. Point is, you need cheering up and I need the nutrients. Make something hearty and we'll all be over at 7."

"But—"

"No buts! See you later. Boop." Kaminari pressed Katsuki's nose like a button and another explosion popped in his left palm, unbidden.

Katsuki couldn't help but think he liked all his friends more when they were too afraid to defy him.

Bakusquad (and Jiro)

ThunderDolt created an event "Game Night."

ThunderDolt: short notice i know but our bakubaby is heartbroken and he can only be healed through the spirit of competition

Ground Zero: fuck all the way off

Super Bass: does that mean bakugo will cook? im starving

Sharknado: bakubro whats wrong? ill be there!1!

Serophane: im in. iida has too much going on at the agency to stop by but he says hi

ThunderDolt: hi iida

Super Bass: hi iida

Sharknado: hi iida

The Pink Menace: hi iida

Serophane: hi iida 3

The Pink Menace: Ground Zero bakuho say it

Ground Zero: no

Super Bass: why am i in this godforsaken chat and iida isn't?

Serophane: he used to be but he said all the messages were distracting

Super Bass: that sounds like iida

The Pink Menace: so game night? are we finally gonna talk about bakubois lover?

Serophane: a torrid love affair? oh my!

Sharknado: dont tease him

ThunderDolt: yet

The Pink Menace: that was ominous OwO

Ground Zero: im not letting you people into my home

Sharknado: see you at 7!

They were lucky he liked cooking, and that he found it relaxing. If not for his bone-deep need to chill the fuck out, he would've been content to let them all starve. He couldn't deny that it was nice not to be alone, though. His apartment seemed far too quiet without Izuku. It was driving him mad.

No matter how inane the conversation, it was nice to hear his friends chattering on the couch while he finished up dinner. He turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a tea towel.

"Alright, fuckers, come and get it."

A stampede of idiots and one broken bowl later, they all sat eating on the couch. Kaminari wouldn't stop talking with his mouth full, and Ashido was trying to convince everyone to play Cards Against Humanity. Katsuki wanted something a little more competitive—and he hated Cards Against Humanity because he could never win it.

Just as they were finishing up and deciding on the first game, there was a knock at his door. Katsuki did a quick headcount of all the idiots squeezed on his couch, only to find that everyone was present and accounted for. Who the hell else would show up unannounced? Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing because they were all eerily quiet. Ashido and Kaminari exchanged a look that made Katsuki think of sharks smelling blood in the water. He padded quickly to the door before anyone could speak.

Of course it was Izuku, letting himself in with his key, and shirking off his shoes with frantic, reckless abandon, because what else could go wrong? He tried to close his slackened jaw when their eyes met but he failed.

"You're infuriating," he said, his eyes set with fiery determination as he slammed into a surprised Katsuki, pressing him against the nearest wall with a thud, and pulling him into a desperate, sloppy kiss. Clearly, he was done pretending he hadn't missed him in their agonizing month of silence. Izuku continued to paw at him, rather loudly, unaware of the captive audience on the other side of the wall.

"I need you to stop being mad at me. I can't take it anymore," he said, his hands already under his shirt and palming his chest.

"Oh my god," Kaminari said, giggling like the fool he was. He couldn't see them, so hopefully they couldn't actually see Izuku from where they sat on the couch.

"This sounds like the beginning of a porno. My god, Bakubitch is a lucky man." Ashido whistled. He imagined she was fanning herself, waving away the instant heat their embrace created. Izuku seemed to realize they weren't alone around the same time Katsuki's face caught fire.

"Oh. You have guests," Izuku said, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. Katsuki wanted to bite them.

"Yeah," Katsuki said, his fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose to combat the stress headache he felt coming on. He felt cold without Izuku's hands on his body. He didn't know all the rules surrounding his non-relationship with Izuku anymore. Their stupid argument, and the month-long silence that followed had him second-guessing himself. He used to be so sure around Izuku, he could read his mood, tell when he was getting skittish, but now he felt like anything he said could be the tipping point. He seemed to want to keep things private, and that didn't bother Katsuki so much as the fact that he was clearly unwilling to acknowledge his real feelings for him. If Izuku couldn't acknowledge that he loved him—or even liked him as more than a fuck buddy—where could they go from there? He wasn't sure how all of his friends knowing exactly how he and Izuku spent their time would affect what they had going, but it couldn't be good.

"If you don't want them to see you, you should go now," Katsuki said, and he couldn't even try to hide his disappointment.

"Why would you think I care if they see me?" Izuku asked, his voice low to keep their conversation private. Katsuki could smell his shampoo and it made his stomach flutter. He wanted to press his nose to Izuku's fluffy curls and inhale deeply, but his pride wouldn't let him.

"Because they can't keep their mouths shut and I know you're probably not okay with that." Katsuki didn't say it in the cool, supportive way he usually did. He said it like the hurt, petty bastard he was. Izuku did not appreciate that if the look in his eye and the hard set of his jaw was anything to go by.

"Don't be stupid, Katsuki."

Katsuki couldn't think of a time when Izuku had ever used his full name, not even when they were kids. It was always Kacchan. Hearing his name now made him feel like his brain was exploding… and maybe his crotch. He resented the fact that Izuku could come in here after nearly two months of nothing and make him feel this way just by smelling like apples and saying his name. It was almost enough to make him forget he had a chorus of chucklefucks taking up all his couch space in the other room.

Almost.

"Guys, Quirkless is Bakugo's secret boyfriend!" Jiro yelled as she peeked around the corner.

"We know," Sero, Ashido, and Kirishima said in unison.

"Not fair. You bitches never tell me anything," Jiro complained.

"The fuck? Why didn't I know?" Kaminari whined.

"It's bro-code," Kirishima said, and Ashido said, "Bakubaby was embarrassed about his first crush."

"Should've gone to the Christmas party! They were eye-fucking from across the room all night," Sero said. Katsuki wondered if there was some service he could contact to trade in his friends for less-embarrassing replacements. He cast a wary glance in Izuku's direction only to find him smiling.

"Do you want me to leave?" Izuku asked, his voice a soft, hopeful whisper.

"No," Katsuki said, a slave to Izuku's time and attention. He never wanted Izuku to leave. He never wanted him to sleep anywhere but his bed, never wanted him to be more than an arms-length away, so he could always pull him close. He thought the distance he created between them would make it easier to say no to him, not harder. In truth, the distance just made his feelings harder to ignore when what he'd been denying himself was within reach. Every cell in his body missed Izuku, and he couldn't even begin to describe the contentment and comfort he felt having him around again. It was something akin to miraculously regrowing a missing limb, or finding an old keepsake he'd thought he'd lost long ago

"Jiro, nice to meet you. I'm a big fan." Izuku said, walking toward the other room. Ashido squealed, catapulted off her spot on the couch, intercepted Izuku's outstretched hand—the one that was reaching to shake Jiro's—and hugged Izuku around the neck.

"Good to see you again, cutie pie." Ashido planted a wet kiss on his cheek. Izuku only waited until she turned around to seat herself back in her spot before rubbing it away.

"Izuku, these are all my idiot friends. You've met everyone except for Shitty Hair, Dunce Face, and Earlobes. This is is Midoriya Izuku." Katsuki hoped his face wasn't still red, but he knew better. Luckily, Izuku didn't need much help integrating. He was personable, famous, and cute after all.

"I have to say I never expected Kacchan to have so many friends," Izuku said, chuckling.

"Kacchan?!"

"That's so cute."

"Kacchan, can I call you Kacchan?" Kaminari asked.

"No. Fuck off."

He had little hope that his friends would behave themselves, so he mentally strapped himself in for the evening to come. He took a little comfort in having Izuku close to him. His stomach flipped when Izuku joined him on the ground in front of the coffee table, half in his lap. He was a balm to his fraying patience. He felt full for the first time in so long.

"Nice to finally meet you, man. Kirishima Eijiro. I'm Bakubro's favorite." Kirishima smiled his biggest grin and held out a knuckle for Izuku to bump. Katsuki figured they would get along. They were both easy going and smiling more often than not.

"I'm a huge fan! I swear half my closet is Red Riot merch." Izuku may have given up on his All Might obsession, but he was still a huge hero nerd. Katsuki found a stack of hero analysis notebooks in his hall closet a few months ago. Still, Katsuki felt a little jealousy curl in his stomach at Izuku's admission.

"What's the other half?" Katsuki asked, fishing for a compliment.

"Everyone else?" Izuku said, laughing. He couldn't tell if Izuku was messing with him, but Katsuki would sell his soul to Satan before he ever outright asked if Izuku had his merch in front of his friends.

"No Ground Zero collection?" Jiro asked, asking in her usual I don't really care kind of way, but never going to pass up a chance to embarrass Katsuki. Little did she know, she was helping him.

"Nope," he said, but then held up a finger like he remembered something, "Actually, I was recently gifted a Ground Zero bento." Izuku shot Katsuki a sly smile. Katsuki blushed.

"Cute," Ashido said.

They played a whole bunch of partner games, switching up the teams for every game. Whenever Katsuki and Izuku worked together they decimated the competition. It made him swell with pride.

"Honestly, what do you see in him? You're way too good for him, Midoriya," Kaminari said.

"Hey." Katsuki threw the nearest throw pillow at him with extreme prejudice.

"Full offense, Bakugo, but your personality is like flaming dog shit, and you know this," Jiro said, and she lobbed the pillow back at him.

"Emphasis on flaming, heyo!" Sero said, and then added, "I can say that because I, too, am a flaming homosexual."

"You should be banned from saying anything ever," Katsuki grumbled. At some point in the last hour, Katsuki's arm wound around Izuku's waist, and his hand played with the hem of his shirt, his fingertips ghosting across Izuku's hipbone. Once, when he thought no one was looking, Katsuki quickly nuzzled Izuku's neck, letting his lips brush across his thin shirt, his nose in his hair. Kirishima shot him a covert, knowing look before looking away to give him a fleeting moment of privacy.

"Kacchan's not so bad," Izuku said, looking at Katsuki with something like love and lust and admiration rolled into one green-eyed package. He wanted all his friends to leave so he could melt into Izuku and give him all his attention. He'd gone too long without him and he didn't want to wait another minute.

"Kaminari, come here for a second," Katsuki said, reluctantly disentangling himself from Izuku to pull Kaminari aside. Once they were reasonably away from the group in the living room, Katsuki spoke in a low, serious tone.

"If you can convince everyone to leave in the next ten minutes I'll give you all the leftovers from tonight."

"Wow. Very subtle, horndog."

"I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, too."

"Will it be in a Ground Zero bento?" He laughed.

"You're useless. I'll ask Kirishima."

"Wait, wait! I'll do it. Don't expect your Tupperware back though."

"It's worth it. Don't you fucking dare tell anyone about this."

"Bakugo, I know we teased you a lot tonight but we're all happy for you. You don't have to be so secretive all the time."

"Don't be mushy, Thunder Dolt. Go pack up your leftovers." Katsuki scoffed and brushed past him. He wasn't good at feelings, or being thankful, but he hoped Kaminari could feel his gratitude. He had a feeling his friends wouldn't have stuck around this long if they weren't able to read him.

"What was that about?" Izuku asked, allowing himself to be pulled into Katsuki's side as he sat down next to him again.

"Nothing," he said, his voice a little husky as he tightened his arm around Izuku's midsection.

"Mmm, so you didn't ask Kaminari to clear everyone out so we could be alone?"

"No comment," he said, allowing himself to press his face into Izuku's hair and breathe deeply. Izuku pinched his arm.

"Don't be sweet to me, Kacchan. We still need to talk, remember?"

"Right," he said, and he risked pressing a kiss to his cheek to offset the one Ashido gave him earlier in the night. Izuku made a grossed-out sound, but he didn't rub it away, and Katsuki growled playfully and whispered, "Well, then mark me down as scared and horny."

Izuku suppressed a giggle in Katsuki's shoulder and lightly bit his neck.

"Wow, get a room," Sero said, rolling his eyes and turning away from them to talk to Kirishima. Jiro, clearly clued in on Katsuki's bribe, made a show of yawning and stretching.

"Wow, is it that late? Denki, let's go home."

Katsuki was thankful, even though Jiro's acting left something to be desired. Izuku couldn't keep his giggling at bay.

"We should probably go too, Mina," Kirishima said. Katsuki noticed his ears turning a little red. Kirishima had been as tight lipped about his blossoming relationship with Ashido as he'd been about Izuku. He was surprised to hear him call her by her first name, and to hear that they'd come together.

"Right! Let's hit it, babe," Mina said, the picture of nonchalance. Kirishima looked like he was malfunctioning, he was so flustered.

Sero, ever the normal person in the group, stood up to leave without much fanfare.

"I'm out. Midoriya, it was good to see you again."

"You, too. Tell Iida I said hi! And tell him to stop working so hard."

"You might need to help me convince him. Let's all get together soon, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Finally, they were alone. To his credit, he allowed Izuku one long, wonderful kiss before he laid into him.

"So, clearly you're still interested," Katsuki said. He used his heroic strength to lay Izuku down. He straddled him and held his wrists lightly above his head. The fact that he could break free if he wanted to and still surrendered filled Katsuki with hopeful butterflies.

"I missed you. A lot." He kissed Izuku's neck.

"I know. Sero told me you've been a nightmare to be around." His smile was content, but Katsuki could see the nervous energy that radiated off him in waves.

"Fucking traitor. I need new friends," he mumbled.

"I like your friends," Izuku said, a small smile quirking his lips. "And you hardly sound like someone who's been betrayed."

"I can't find it in me to be angry at the moment." Katsuki kissed his temple, right where his scar started, and pecked a line down his cheek. He had over a month's worth of kissing to make up for.

"If this is arguing, I look forward to more of it in the future."

"I'm just getting started. Talk to me, Izuku."

"There's nothing to say on my end."

"I don't believe that at all." Katsuki let so much slide when it came to their relationship. He let Izuku clam up and shy away from the things he wasn't ready for, but he was done with that now. He wanted everything out on the table. Izuku was worth the risk of being open and vulnerable and honest. He was worth everything to Katsuki. When Izuku didn't respond for a long time, Katsuki took the lead.

"You hurt my feelings, and I'd like to hash it out."

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry for being a jealous idiot. It won't happen again."

"I don't believe that, but I appreciate the sentiment." Izuku gave him an unsure smile.

"I just don't know what's okay anymore. I've been going at your pace, and I don't mind that, but I thought we really had something. And then you just… disappeared on me."

"We do," he said. It was just a whisper, and it held all the indecision Katsuki had noticed every time they got too close to anything real.

"Don't say that if you're not sure. Don't say that if you're just going to flaunt the fact that I'm not your boyfriend every time we argue."

"You're not, though."

"Well, then what are we? 'Cause we're not just friends, and it's not just sex. You like me, I know you do."

"Kacchan," Izuku said, the space between his brows crinkling in frustration.

"I'm serious. I don't know how to be and how to feel and I can barely say what we are, so just tell me."

"We're two people who enjoy each other's company. We spend time together."

"Do you enjoy other people's company?"

"Specifically guys with purple hair? No."

"I saw Shindo was in town last week. Did you see him?"

"Yes,"

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No. You're the only person I'm even thinking about sleeping with."

Katsuki felt like a dam was breaking in his chest. He was so upset. Katsuki never felt so frustrated and lost in his life. He could tell Izuku was trying to make concessions, to keep him on the hook without actually saying anything important. Once he started speaking, he couldn't stop.

"You're always so vague about everything. Dating-like behavior. Enjoying each other's company. What the fuck does that actually mean?"

"Kacchan—"

"And it always feels like we're sneaking around, but you just spent the entire evening in my damn lap in front of all my friends. You didn't correct anyone when they assumed you were my boyfriend."

"Kacchan."

"I just don't know your rules. It feels like I'm in the dark. I'm the only one fumbling here."

"Katsuki, stop talking."

"No. I need to say this."

Izuku waited while Katsuki took a hasty breath. He wouldn't be able to walk any of this back later. That was scary, but he deserved someone that wanted all of him. He wanted Izuku to know before he even thought of walking away from this.

"I just want you to be mine—unconditionally—because I've been yours for a long time."

Because I'm in love with you, he thought. It wasn't quite the right time to say that though. He was starting to wonder if there ever would be a right time. Izuku sighed, looking a little pained. He wouldn't meet Katsuki's eyes.

"Kacchan, I told you I don't really date. I don't like to complicate things, and you and I are the textbook definition of complicated in every aspect of our relationship. Every aspect except this. This works the way it is because we don't have rules."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"Aside from clarifying that I don't belong to anyone but myself? No."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I think you do. You're possessive."

"Okay." Katsuki disentangled himself from Izuku so he wouldn't have to look at him anymore. He thought once that he would take whatever Izuku would give him, but that was before he all but admitted his feelings to Izuku and he brushed him off. He was embarrassed and hurt. Rejection wasn't something Katsuki ever had to deal with—he made sure of that by never putting himself out there. But he did that for Izuku time and time again, and to say that was a big deal was putting it lightly. The more he stewed the the more his hurt turned to anger.

He padded to the kitchen, desperate for a distraction, and started washing the dishes. He was trying really hard to just shut his mouth and let the conversation die. At the same time Izuku said, "Are we good?" Katsuki said, even louder, "No rules, huh?"

Izuku narrowed his eyes like he was gauging how much answering the question would cost him. Eventually, he smiled softly.

"Yeah. No rules."

He scoffed, thoroughly done with trying to see the world through Izuku's eyes. He didn't make sense. This wasn't right.

"That's such bullshit, Izuku."

"Why are you so upset all of a sudden?"

"Because you're being a fucking hypocrite. Because you know how I feel about you—you always have—and you know you feel the same, but you keep fighting it and I don't know why." Katsuki hated the biting edge in his voice. He always fought to curb his aggression around Izuku. He never wanted to give him a reason to be afraid of him again.

"How am I being a hypocrite?" The fact that Izuku ignored the rest of what Katsuki said only added fuel to the fire.

"There are rules. They just don't apply to you. You can ignore me for a month and show up again in an instant like it's nothing. You get to barge into my apartment when I'm with all my friends and allow everyone to think we're together, but I'm not allowed to hold your hand in public, or take you to dinner, or anything else that would be totally normal for people who've been fucking for six months to do. You're the one calling all the shots, and I just fucking let you do it because I—" He cut himself off. This was not the way to tell someone you love them. This was not the way he would tell Izuku.

"And now I feel like an asshole because I told you how I feel and what I want. I don't do that with people, and you just kind of shat all over it."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Kacchan."

"That's not the same thing as being sorry."

"I'm not sorry. You knew what this was from the beginning. I thought I was pretty clear. What do I have to be sorry about?" Izuku's eyes were cold and guarded in a way they hadn't been in so long. He was losing him. If he kept pushing, he would walk out and he'd never have any piece of him again.

"Nothing, I guess."

"Where do we go from here, then?" He could see the last little bit of hope flickering in Izuku's eyes. Hope that Katsuki would let this go. Hope that they could go on ignoring the way they both felt.

"You tell me," he said, even though he didn't mean it. You always tell me and I follow.

"I'd like to keep seeing you, but I don't want anything more."

"Be honest. Do you think you'll ever want something more with me? Could you ever feel that way?"

"I don't know, Kacchan. Can't we just live in the now?"

"I don't think so."

"What?" Izuku froze, his big eyes widening with so much hurt than Katsuki almost took it back. Instead, he dug in. Izuku wasn't the only one hurting. Katsuki had to think of himself too.

"I think you should go."

"Kacchan…"

"I need some space. I need time to think." All Katsuki could think at the moment was how he didn't want space from Izuku ever. He wanted him as close as close could get. "I'll call you."

"I hope you mean that and you're not just saying it so I'll leave."

Katsuki hoped for a lot of things. He hoped Izuku would open up. He hoped he'd be honest about his feelings, so Katsuki could finally let the dam of his love break and flood Izuku with it. He hoped it wouldn't end the way it seemed to be ending now. His hopes were dashed, so he couldn't find it in himself to care what Izuku hoped for at the moment.

It took maybe thirty seconds after he left for Katsuki to regret everything he said. It took all his strength not to run out in his house shoes and track Izuku down and tell him he was fine with Izuku's arrangement just so he didn't have to lose him. But he couldn't lose what was never really his. He didn't want to subsist on pieces of Izuku. He wanted sex and love, friendship and intimacy, and he was beginning to wonder if Izuku could ever give him that.

"What's wrong?" Kirishima asked when he'd gotten to the agency. He'd hardly slept at all since the aftermath of game night. He'd hardly done anything besides replay their conversation over and over again in his head, trying to find something he could've changed, could've said a little differently, to prevent the catastrophic implosion of the future he saw for him and Izuku.

"Nothing."

"Did you guys break up? You looked so happy at game night."

"No." You can't break up if you were never together.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kirishima asked, soft and tentative in a tone he'd never once used with Katsuki. It enraged him.

"I would rather use my Quirk to blow up my own face than talk about it. That's not gonna change, so stop asking."

Izuku was hit by a sick sense of deja vu. Maybe that term wasn't entirely accurate, actually, because while the current predicament he found himself in was familiar—he also felt totally unmoored by it in a new and unwelcome way. Kacchan called him out. He was honest about his feelings and refused to abide anything that wasn't exactly what he wanted in a way Shindo only did at the very end of their relationship, when it was already up in flames, and he was desperate to keep the inferno at bay. Well, fine. Izuku could respect that, and Kacchan would just have to respect that Izuku would be just as uncompromising. He'd caved once before, and that had gone about as well as detonating a nuclear bomb. All it had won him was destruction, and he'd lost a friend in the process.

Izuku felt like he'd lost even more this time around, but he couldn't say he hadn't expected things to end. Everything ended. All he could do was minimize the hurt. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hurting, but the hurt would've been so much worse if he'd let it go on, if he'd let Kacchan see him fully, if he'd been honest about the feelings he'd been harboring.

So, he'd put them away. Compartmentalizing was never his strong suit, but he would put this all-consuming hurt and this deep, unwavering attachment away. He would shove it somewhere dark and bury it six feet under whatever he could find until he forgot all about it.

He'd start that tomorrow, though. Tonight, he wanted to cry and howl and rage and mourn the loss of something he never deserved to have in the first place.


	13. Dark Side of the Moon

MAY

_5 missed calls_

_Izuku … Sunday 1:34 AM_

_Izuku … Sunday 1:41 AM_

_Izuku … Sunday 1:45 AM_

_Izuku … Sunday 2:02 AM_

_Izuku … Sunday 2:30 AM_

Katsuki woke up around the second or third ring of the third call, and then—once he was awake enough to register that it was Izuku calling him, he sat upright and curled into a fetal position against his headboard. He watched his phone buzz and light up with a picture he attached to Izuku's contact info in a moment of affection-driven insanity. Izuku was sleeping, limbs tangled with Katsuki's, his freckles stark against winter-pale skin and white sheets. He should change it. Or delete in entirely. Exes—or whatever they technically were—didn't get photos unnecessarily added to their contact information. When the phone finally stopped buzzing, it felt darker and quieter in his lonely apartment than it had felt since Izuku left. And then it started back up.

_Incoming call…_

_Izuku_

It rang twice before his willpower crumbled. Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe he wanted to be together for real this time. So he answered on the third ring.

"Hello?" He hated how he sounded like a confused, old man who'd never used a telephone.

"_Katsuki,"_ Izuku said. He breathed his name like a prayer and warmth pooled in Katsuki's stomach instantly.

"H-hi." Katsuki was hardly able to remain coherent, much less casual. He was almost afraid he was dreaming.

"Come over."

"It's three in the morning," he said, in lieu of a definitive answer. If Ashido were here—and thank god she wasn't—she would be warning him about booty calls and "u up?" texts and all the other dumb shit she read in her stupid magazines.

"It's been too long. I miss you so much," he said, and now that he was speaking more than two words in a sentence, Katsuki could hear the obvious slur and the tripping cadence of his words.

"You're drunk," Katsuki said, trying not to sound accusatory. Izuku let out a breathy chuckle.

"Guilty. But only a little. I'm celebrating a long weekend."

Katsuki faintly heard sheets rustling and springs creaking. He was in bed, and this was a shameless booty call.

"Izuku, I told you. I don't want to be just a late night hook up."

"We used to hook up in the daytime too. And mornings. Morning were always fun."

Katsuki could hear the faint smile in his words and it twisted like a knife in his back.

"This isn't a joke to me," Katsuki snapped, his composure waning. He was so tired and frustrated and lonely, and Izuku was laughing at him. Katsuki sighed away from his phone, so Izuku wouldn't hear it. It felt like his rib cage was too small to house his internal organs, everything pressing in on him.

"I want you," Izuku said, but it was half-hearted, a last attempt at getting his way.

"That's…" Katsuki started, knowing what he wanted to say but afraid to actually put it out into the universe. He took a deep breath. He felt like he was facing a firing squad instead of talking on the phone to someone he'd known literally his entire life.

"That's not enough. I'm in love with you and," he huffed a breath and realized he was starting to cry, the pain in his chest was worse than any villain attack he could remember. "I'm not even mad at you for not feeling the same way, but _please_ stop calling me. I won't answer anymore."

He was being brutally honest with himself. How could he fault Izuku for not loving him back? He was loud and abrasive and a _bully_. That was his natural setting. Who was he kidding with all that supportive patience? He would be hard to love on the best day, nevermind the worst.

"Ka—"

Katsuki hung up. He didn't want to hear Izuku feel sorry for him, or try to negotiate some kind of truce. Katsuki felt brittle and empty and he was so glad he had Saturdays off because he didn't want to get out of bed for anything tomorrow—_today_, he thought. It was past three am.

He woke up at noon, an odd and incredibly disorienting thing for him. Even more disorienting, he woke to the sound of his doorbell buzzing incessantly. His first thought was that it was Izuku, and it had him burrowing under the safety of his comforter.

He entertained the idea of disregarding whoever it was completely and going back to sleep, but the bell was impossible to ignore. When he finally got a bit closer to the door he could hear his mom screaming profanities in the hall. He'd completely forgotten they were supposed to meet for lunch an hour ago. He heaved an enormous sigh and opened the door.

"What the fu—" she started, but cut herself off. She seemed to physically jolt at the sight of him, and Katsuki remembered he'd spent a fair amount of time blubbering into his sheets before he fell asleep last night. The embarrassment flooded him and he couldn't look at her. He didn't cry. It wasn't a part of the Bakugo genetic makeup as far as he and his mom were concerned. They were in uncharted territory, and he just wanted her to get on with her lecture and leave him in peace to wallow.

And then, to his surprise, he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. He couldn't remember the last time his mother hugged him, and he couldn't remember ever needing one so bad. He hadn't been touched since Izuku left, and he hadn't realized how much he missed the feel of someone comforting him. Before he knew it, his head was buried in his mom's neck even though he was a whole head taller than her. She patted his back in a way he'd only ever associated with Auntie Inko when he was young, and still in her good graces. After what felt like a lifetime, he extricated himself from her motherly embrace, and let out a long, shaky sigh. If she noticed how wet her shoulder was, she didn't comment on it. Her eyebrows pinched in concern, and she cupped his cheek.

"Tell me about him. What happened with Izuku?"

He didn't know how she knew. Maybe it was because she was so familiar with that odd Midoriya Magic that affected her so when her best friend was around. Maybe this was just something they shared, like their ugly tempers and their blonde hair, and she was the only one who understood it. Maybe she paid more attention to gossip magazines than he realized. Either way, they settled on the couch, and he told her every sordid detail, the little cracks in his heart splintering further all the while.

JUNE

Izuku was doing his best to bury any and all things Kacchan. He took extra shifts at his agency, planned out his lessons plans for the rest of the year, and did sprints up and down his block instead of sleeping or thinking. He'd work himself until he was so tired, dreaming wasn't an option. When he was sleeping, he couldn't stop his thoughts from running wild, and his wild thoughts always made a beeline for Kacchan.

He now knew how utterly exhausting it was to be a functioning adult running on less than three hours of sleep a night—he didn't know how Shinso and Aizawa did it constantly. He still wasn't speaking to Aizawa, aside from the occasional chilly, yet polite, exchanges that revolved entirely around work and classes and student schedules. What was the point in speaking to him, anyway? He didn't want to hear anything Aizawa had to say about him or Kacchan. There was nothing to say anymore, aside from _I told you so_, and Izuku would rather set himself on fire than hear that.

Izuku was nodding off in the teachers lounge, desperately trying to maintain consciousness by going over the reading material for his lesson that day, when Shinso leaned in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"What?"

"You look like shit," he said, blunt as usual.

"I look the same way I always do," Izuku said, giving up on his notes and tossing them away. He leaned his head back on the couch and took a deep breath.

"When's the last time you slept, or brushed your hair?"

_May, _he thought, but he'd never say that. He _did_ sleep every night. He just didn't sleep for long. And he'd been too busy lately for a haircut. He didn't care about the bags under his eyes, or the fact that his hair was nearly to his shoulders and so unruly it was mildly off-putting. Who was he trying to impress? The only person he regularly saw outside of work was his therapist, and she was more concerned about the mess within that without. At least now his appearance matched his insides.

"I sleep enough," he said, gruff and groggy.

"Midoriya, I've been in a committed relationship with insomnia since I was five years old. It's not as easy as I make it look."

"Congratulations," he drawled. "Any other fun facts you'd like to share?"

"Aizawa wants to talk to you."

That got Izuku's attention. He sat up, ramrod straight.

"Why?" He asked, and it was a frantic screech.

"He's worried about you, dumbass. I am too. He's in his classroom," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, waiting for Izuku to get off the couch before he went about his day.

Izuku walked to Aizawa's classroom with the same amount of fear and trepidation as a man walking to the gallows. He honestly didn't know if he could handle another lecture, but it'd be worse if he just didn't show up. Izuku took a deep breath before he faced the firing squad, and opened the door.

"You wanted to see me?"

Aizawa nodded, and motioned for him to take a seat. Izuku grimaced at the available seating—the students' desks. It felt like a power play, being forced to sit in a child's desk as a superior chided him. He was too tired to protest, so he took the seat directly facing Aizawa's desk.

"Midoriya," Aizawa started, but Izuku held up a hand.

"I'm really not up to a lecture right now, and I have to prepare for class soon."

"Shinso tells me that you're so prepared for classes you have them planned out for the rest of the semester," he said, barreling on despite Izuku's near-plea to spare him. Izuku shrugged.

"I've had some extra time on my hands. Getting my priorities straight." He stared at his hands, fidgeting and knotting together under the desk. He wouldn't look at Aizawa's disappointed gaze for anything.

"You haven't been sleeping. You're dead on your feet."

How was this not a lecture? Izuku fidgeted some more, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"I'm fine," he grit out around a sigh.

"You're not, and if anything I said in December contributed to that, I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Izuku said, quiet.

"If you're in pain, it matters. Don't suffer in silence, kid," he said, and something about his exact wording was incredibly familiar.

"Joke told you to say that, didn't she?"

She said something similar when he was sixteen. When it became painfully obvious that Izuku's fear of fire went beyond what anyone would call healthy avoidance, she sat him down, and they made a plan to confront it.

"She mentioned that you're much more sensitive and secretive than you appear on the surface. I didn't know that, and I'm sorry." He said it again. He'd never heard Aizawa apologize to anyone, and here he was saying it _twice._ The ugly, twisted emotion in his gut roiled, and he wanted to let it out.

"I don't know what to do," he said, desperate and depressed and so emotional he could visibly see Aizawa recoil.

"What's wrong?" He spoke slowly, tempered. He was good at that—at being steady in the face of a disaster.

"I fucked up. I really, really fucked up, and now I'm alone and I don't know how to make it better."

"You're not alone. You and I are going to sit here and figure out what you need, and then you're going to go home and sleep. Shinso and I won't let you be alone because we're like family and we care about you."

"I didn't know," he said lamely, and the tears he'd been fighting for a month finally spilled over, and he was so embarrassed he couldn't do anything other than bury his head in his hands and hide.

AUGUST

Izuku was feeling better, and when he wasn't, he refused to beat himself up over it. He'd started hanging out with Shinso on their days off. They rode their bikes in the park, or cuddled with cats at Shinso's favorite cafe. Izuku decided he'd never been happier than when a cat willingly chose his lap as its preferred place to sleep. The lulling purr vibrated in his very soul. Despite his cat allergy, he spent a fair amount of time there without Shinso as well. It was impossible to feel bad surrounded by furry animals.

He'd filled his time with all the things he used to say he'd do, but never got around to actually doing it, little hobbies and activities here and there. He took a cooking class, but was politely asked to leave when the completely inedible meal he made set the class kitchen on fire. He tried knitting too, because his therapist suggested it. He wasn't good at it, but he made Aizawa and Shinso matching hats and scarves. They were good sports about it, and promised to wear them at least once when it got cold out.

Really, the best hobby he'd picked up was painting. He found that he was really good at it. He'd always enjoyed drawing in his hero notebooks when he was younger, but he never thought he had any real talent for it. He was good at painting. He found himself painting the illustrations from The Little Prince a lot—a brilliant orange fox on a grassy knoll, the prince and his flock of birds, the baobabs and the tiny volcanoes, the expanse of space he occupied on his little asteroid. He wanted to show them to Kacchan, but he couldn't, so he didn't show them to anyone.

Kacchan was still on his mind far too often, and it still hurt to think of him, but Izuku was coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't ready to be in a relationship the way Kacchan wanted. He could admit now that he had strong feelings for Kacchan—he might even love him, but he used Kacchan to feel better about himself. He used Kacchan's love to ignore the fact that he didn't love himself, and Kacchan never deserved to be used.

He was done with lying to himself, done feeding the ugly thing inside him that told him he didn't deserve anything but misery. His therapist told him that it was like being afraid of the dark. No one actually fears the darkness, they fear what could be lurking within. She told Izuku to turn on the lights, to look that ugly thing in the face, and name it because hiding from it only made it stronger.

He named it Deku, because Deku was a part of him. Deku was a scared, Quirkless child. Deku was a hateful monster. But Deku could also be loved, and make friends, and allow himself to be taken care of. Deku could listen to purring cats all day, and make something beautiful from a blank canvas.

It was a slow, agonizing process, this telling the truth. He shared his feelings of inadequacy with his mom and Shinso and even Ms. Joke. Like lancing a boil, every time he spoke about it, the festering infection lessened, and so did his pain. He found Kacchan at the heart of this pain, an untouchable, indelible ache. He wanted to call him. He wanted so desperately to find him and tell him everything, to spill his guts and beg his forgiveness—but he'd missed his chance for that and he had to stand on his now. Someday, he would be okay enough to apologize to both Shindo and Kacchan for all the pain he caused them, but he wasn't ready for that yet. Baby steps. He had to be kind to himself.

SEPTEMBER

Katsuki only went to Iida's birthday because he figured Izuku would be there and Katsuki was a masochistic idiot and he just wanted an excuse to stare at him for a little while.

He spent the evening sulking in a corner trying to deduce if Shinso and Izuku came together. He hated that he was even remotely surprised that Izuku could start whatever they ended with someone else so quickly. It really drove home the fact that what they had wasn't as special for Izuku as it was for Katsuki. He remembered what he said at the bar so long ago, before they ever even touched each other, and not believing it. _It could have been anyone. _The thought burrowed inside his already aching chest, digging the hole a little deeper, a little wider.

Katsuki at least had enough pride to admit what he was doing was the right thing. He deserved someone who reciprocated his feelings. It was a painful lesson to learn, but he figured he was better off knowing it. That's what he told himself every time his loneliness threatened to swallow him whole, everytime his hands itched to call Izuku.

He was zoning out so hard, he barely registered Izuku standing in front of him until he uttered a soft, "Hi."

Katsuki jolted, caught off guard, the warm liquid in the bottle of beer he'd had a vice grip on sloshing around.

"Hey," he said, subtly looking for the exit.

"It's been a while. You look good," Izuku said, his smile looking hollower than normal, or maybe Katsuki just imagined that. He was desperate to think Izuku missed him too, but that was unrealistic. Izuku didn't miss him, he missed the crutch he provided.

"You look good too." His hair was longer, even more shaggy than when they were kids. His freckles were darker and more numerous along his cheeks, like he'd spent a lot of time out in the sun this summer. Katsuki shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the impromptu staring contest happening.

"I was getting ready to head out so… I'm gonna go do that now," Katsuki said, pointing in the general direction he planned on walking toward to make his escape. He'd only been able to take a step before Izuku grabbed his hand.

"Wait," he said, and then added, "Please."

Katsuki couldn't look at him because his heart was suddenly inside his throat and his stomach felt like it was going to fall out his ass.

"How are you?" he asked, smiling awkwardly, like it hurt his face to keep it up. Katsuki noticed he was still holding his hand. Izuku noticed it too and let it drop, and the absence of his skin on his physically hurt.

"I'm great," Katsuki lied. A small lie between them hardly mattered at that point.

"I've got a lot of free time lately and I—" Izuku stopped, clearly unsure of the destination he wanted this conversation to reach. "Can I see you again?" Izuku asked, sheepish.

Katsuki remembered all the times he was the one asking that question. How many times over the years had he asked to see Izuku, only to be turned down or outright ignored. Now the tables were turned, but somehow Katsuki was still the only one feeling like shit.

"Not a good idea," he mumbled. Katsuki abandoned his half-drunk beer on a table and shoved his hands in his pockets so Izuku wouldn't see him ball his hands into fists.

"Oh. Well, if that changes—"

"I'll call you," Katsuki said quickly, just so he could extricate himself from this situation. He tried to calmly walk to the exit, but he felt like he was only seconds away from using his Quirk to blast himself away from his pain.


	14. The Cosmos

JANUARY

Katsuki had pretty much avoided all social interaction since Iida's birthday party. He just didn't want to be around his friends and all their healthy, successful relationships. He'd always been the extra in the group, the one who never split a check at dinner, or always had an instant partner for game nights. That never bothered him before, either. He was content with his lone wolf existence. Being alone never felt _lonely. _And then Izuku happened, and now he was painfully aware of what he was missing.

His friends were good about it. He got the sense that they didn't know what to do with him, so they let him grieve. That is, they let him grieve until they found out he wasn't coming to the UA Christmas party—and that was apparently the last straw. Kirishima put his foot down, and refused to let him wallow any longer.

So, there he was, standing outside in the fucking cold at Kaminari and Jiro's house, barbecuing against his will. He couldn't fathom why they had a barbecue—neither of them could cook for shit—let alone why they would invite everyone over for a barbecue in _January._ It was the epitome of poor planning, even with the heat lamps in the backyard.

Still, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and expertly ignoring Katsuki's sour mood. Iida was there for once, so he didn't even have Sero to be alone with. They sat, talking closely, their heads nearly pressed together, smiling stupidly at each other. At least they weren't as bad as Kirishima and Ashido, off somewhere in the dark, probably horizontal on a lawn chair. They moved in together last month, and they'd been unabashedly throwing themselves at each other since. He was happy for them, but he had to remind himself of that over and over again every time he was stuck in the rose-colored bubble of their honeymoon phase. Katsuki huffed a frustrated sigh and flipped a burger, willing himself to stop being such a petty, grumpy bastard.

Jiro sidled up to him, a bag of buns and a serving tray in her hands.

"You okay?"

"Peachy. I love doing outdoor activities in freezing weather," he snarked. Jiro smacked him with the bag of buns, but her expression was soft.

"I'm sorry. I don't think everyone realizes how hard it is for you to be the odd one out."

The words _odd one out_ felt like a punch to the kidney. Katsuki shook his head and flipped another party on the grill.

"It's fine. It's not their fault."

It wasn't their fault that Katsuki chose to put all his effort into something Izuku didn't want. It wasn't their fault that Katsuki couldn't stand to talk about his feelings with his friends, so he chose to sulk in a corner.

"It's not, but it's not your fault either. Obviously, none of us know the whole story, but we know you well enough to know that you never half-ass anything. If it wasn't working, it wasn't for lack of trying. You've gotta let it go," she said softly while arranging the buns to sit open-faced on the serving platter. They were quiet after that, silently putting the burger patties on the tray. Jiro hadn't said anything Katsuki hadn't already thought of himself. It was no earth-shattering revelation, but it felt good to hear it from someone else. Katsuki felt like he'd just discovered the power of fucking friendship. Jiro picked up the platter to take to the table, and before she was out of earshot, Katsuki murmured, "Thanks."

She stopped, looked back at him knowingly, and said, "For what?"

Katsuki smirked at her, grateful she wasn't going to give him a hard time.

Dinner was full of raucous nonsense, as it often was where his friends were concerned. Everyone was more than a little drunk and giggly, and Katsuki decided he was going to stop moping. It had been almost a year since he and Izuku ended things, and he refused to waste anymore time being angry. He'd wallowed enough, he'd grieved his loss and licked his wounds, and it was time to stop dwelling on it. It was time to stop _waiting_ for Izuku because that was what he was doing whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. He was waiting for Izuku to come to his senses and declare himself to him, and that was never going to happen.

Katsuki threw an extra bun at Kirishima's head. They were drunkenly making out at the dinner table and the food he'd so generously prepared was getting cold fast.

"You know, you've got to separate your face from Ashido's if you're going to eat, dumbass. Food's getting cold," he said. Everyone laughed, and Jiro shot him a small, warm smile. Kirishima and Ashido came up for air, but they were still looking only at each other, breathless and flushed and absolutely sloshed. All at once, they both spoke.

"Kiri, let's get married."

"Let's open an agency together."

There was a weighty pause, not just between them, but a pause in all conversation around them. They both stared dumbly at each other before they both choked out at the same time.

"_Yes."_

After that, the night only got more raucous, and more drunk.

APRIL

He stopped by Kirishima and Ashido's agency after work so he could jog to the gym with Kirishima. They'd made a habit of it after Katsuki decided to get his head out of his ass and stop sulking. Kirishima provided a great distraction, he was there for Katsuki in a way he'd never never needed before, and though Katsuki refused to move to their agency (the thought of having those two idiots as _bosses_ flummoxed him too much to even consider it), he did a fair amount of work helping them get their agency off the ground.

There was a small piece of Katsuki that he would never show to anyone, that was jealous of their newfound love and success. They decided to put the agency before the wedding, setting the date for September, and Katsuki immediately left them room anytime someone broached the subject. He could handle helping with the agency budget and suggesting new hires and what schools to offer internship programs to, but he couldn't sit around and talk about guest lists and flower arrangements and how disgustingly in love they were. It hurt too much, and it set him off on a downward spiral of thinking of Izuku, thinking of the future he'd vaguely imagined building around him once.

He nodded to the receptionist by the front door. He was there often enough that the receptionist immediately used one of her many arms to call Kirishima and let him know he'd arrived.

"Ground Zero, got a minute?"

"Who's asking?" Katsuki asked, wary of strangers. Katsuki turned to look at a tall, broad sidekick he only sort of recognized. He seemed to be just finishing up his patrol, still decked out in his support gear.

"Tidal. Mizuno Ian, when I'm off the clock."

"I've heard of you. You were pretty badass during that forest fire."

Tidal smiled widely at the mild praise. Katsuki knew that Tidal was relatively new to the rankings. He would never tell him, but Katsuki recommended that Kirishima hire him. He was one of their first sidekicks, and was a clear stand out in their rescue division. He was American, a transplant from a successful hero family in New York. He knew he came from a long line of powerful water Quirks—though his was nothing too special. He could only manipulate standing water, which explained the large water tanks on his back, and the small hoses wound around his costume.

"Thanks. Do you think I could join you and the boss at the gym?" Tidal's smile was warm, but a bit nervous.

"I guess. It's not like it's exclusive," Katsuki said, brushing him off. Kirishima made his way out to the waiting area, and high-fived Tidal as he was walking to the locker rooms to change.

"Hey, Bakubro, I see you've met my top sidekick."

"He's coming to the gym with us," Katsuki said nonchalantly, thumbing through work emails on his phone.

"Great," Kirishima said. Katsuki noticed something out of place in his smile but he ignored it. Kirishima—most likely at Ashido's behest—had been trying to set him up a lot in the last few months. He was used to it by now, even though nothing ever came of it.

JUNE

He was starting to be okay. Part of him liked that, but most of Katsuki feared the day he stopped thinking about Izuku. It was like he still wanted to stubbornly hold onto him, to wait for something that was never coming. That was kind of shitty of him considering he was dating. It was new and weird and they both agreed that they should take things slowly, but he'd gotten used to putting himself out there.

Apparently he'd lost his scary _don't approach me_ edge, because Mizuno boldly asked him on a date. After the third time he tagged along with them to the gym, Mizuno made it clear he was interested in spending more time together. Katsuki appreciated the honesty, the directness that was missing between him and Izuku, and it didn't hurt that he'd had a chance to ogle Mizuno while he worked out. His fixation with Mizuno's pale, freckled skin had him thinking he definitely had a type.

He'd learned a lot about him in their two months of casual dating. He knew Mizuno was Japanese, but he learned that his mother was an Irish immigrant. He had an older brother with a Quirk vastly more impressive than his own, and he took over his family's rescue agency as soon as he graduated from school. Mizuno, like Katsuki, was too ambitious to work under his brother, so he used some family connections to try his hand at climbing the ranks in Japan. He wanted to make a name for himself, separate from the Mizuno agency, so there he was.

It was nice. The irony wasn't lost on him that he found himself to be compatible with someone with a water Quirk, but fire and water aside, they were really similar. They'd often argue about nothing just because they were both so hardheaded. Casual date conversation often turned into fierce, intellectual debates on everything from good books to video games to the hero rankings—even when they agreed, one of them would deliberately throw a wrench in their own reasoning just to have something yell about.

Katsuki never felt like the world would end if he got angry or upset with Mizuno. A lot of the time his anger fell away in the face of Mizuno's because if he got really mad, he'd start speaking flustered, hurried English. It was a funny half-in, half-out thing that always made Katsuki laugh and that always made Mizuno blush even redder. Sometimes, if they were alone, Katsuki would hold his puffed out, crimson cheeks and kiss his nose.

Katsuki liked Mizuno—more than he thought he would in the wake of his heartbreak—but he found himself thinking there was something missing. He never had that feeling in those quiet, close moments, like he knew he was living a perfect moment as it was happening. Like his heart was taking a snapshot to memorialize it forever. He didn't know what to make of that. He wanted to blame it on the fact that his one method of comparison was an unorthodox whirlwind that never made much sense. It was all passion and no reason. Emotion over thought.

He hoped, in time, that he and Mizuno could settle into their own passionate storm, falling into step beside each other and patiently waiting for those perfect moments to surface, so he could methodically replace all the little snapshots of Izuku—so he could lessen the hurt that still resurfaced all too eagerly when he thought of him.

AUGUST

Izuku was staring at his Ground Zero bento in the teachers lounge, wishing he'd had the time to wash his usual bento that morning because now he was thinking of Kacchan. Thinking of Kacchan made his stomach hurt, like he had a particularly nasty ulcer and the only cure was calling him (which he wouldn't do).

He was so distracted, he didn't notice Shinso's tall frame taking up most of the doorway as he leaned against it until he cleared his throat. What was it with Shinso and lurking in doorways, and why wasn't Izuku used to it yet? Izuku jumped, dropping his chopsticks with a small clatter.

"You good?" Shinso asked, voice thick with something akin to amusement. Izuku was not good.

"I'm good!"

"Want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Why you're staring at that bento like it punched you in the face and stole your wallet," he said, pushing off the door frame to take a seat next to Izuku. He stole Izuku's upended chopsticks to pick around in his lunch.

"Oh," he said, because what else could he say?

"You could call him, you know," Shinso said, lightly. He had a way of jumping seamlessly from sarcasm to sincerity that still threw Izuku sometimes.

"He wouldn't answer." Izuku called him a lot after the first month of their stalemate—he refused to call it a fight—and Kacchan never answered or returned a call, save for that one time. And that one time was enough to make him stop for good. He made Kacchan _cry. _He felt sick and guilty just thinking about it.

"Maybe, if you didn't call him at two in the morning he'd answer."

"If he wanted to talk to me, he could've called me in the morning."

"If you wanted to actually talk to him, you wouldn't call that late," Shinso said, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. Izuku huffed and pried the chopsticks from Shinso's hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means booty calls don't count." Shinso's lilac eyes narrowed, like he was daring Izuku to try to argue with him. Izuku looked away, guilty as charged, and Shinso started picking at his food again, this time with his fingers.

"You should call him. In the daylight hours," Shinso said when Izuku let the silence draw out.

"He doesn't want to see me," Izuku said, hearing the tiny beginnings of a wobble in his voice and hating himself for it.

"I saw you talking at Iida's birthday party. I saw the way he looked at you. He definitely wants to see you."

"That was a long time ago… Wait, how'd he look at me? I thought he just looked like he wanted to get away from me."

"He looked like you punched him in the face and stole his wallet. And like he would ask you to do it again if he didn't get out of there."

"What does that even mean? And how do you know so much about me and Kacchan?"

"You got wasted on appletinis and told me _all_ about it before puking on my couch."

"I don't remember that," Izuku said, flames of shame engulfing his face.

"I know," he said dryly.

"Appletinis? Really?"

"You said they were green and sweet, just like you."

"And you didn't cut me off?" Izuku asked, mortified.

"Midoriya. Stop messing around and tell him how you feel. You've already wasted enough time."

"I still don't know if I can handle a relationship. Oh, god, I haven't had sex in over a year. What if I forgot how to do it?"

"Sex should be the last thing on your mind. Has anyone ever told you that you use sex as a weapon?"

"_What?"_

"You use it to power trip people. You're always in control because you replace actual intimacy with physical intimacy—like a cheat." Shinso popped a piece of broccoli in his mouth and licked his fingers.

"You sound like my therapist."

"I may as well be after everything you've told me," he said, his face shifting to concern again.

"The appletinis betrayed me, I can't believe it."

"Believe it. There's a green stain on my carpet because of you."

"What if I see him, and I get scared, and I can't say or do what I need to?"

"Then it wasn't meant to happen in the first place, and you'll have wasted a lot of time pining for him."

"Pining, huh? Who says I'm pining?" Izuku's challenging question fell flat. Shinso narrowed his eyes at him.

"Stop fucking around. You've been making all these changes in your life for so long. I know you want someone to share it with. A very specific someone. I can only be your emotional fluffer for so long."

"My _what?"_

"There's no way you don't know what a fluffer is."

"I do, but we're friends! You don't _fluff_ anything."

"Not physically. Even though you've definitely made a pass at me."

"I have not!" Izuku couldn't tell if Shinso was being serious, or just teasing him to try to keep the conversation light.

"Appletinis, bitch."

"Never again." He sighed dramatically.

"That's what you said the last time." Shinso laughed at his expense, poking around for another piece of chicken, and Izuku finally snapped the lid shut to prevent his lunch from further desecration.

He walked away from the conversation with a lot on his mind. The only time he ever discussed Kacchan was during his therapy sessions—and, apparently, when he was drunk, which he was happy to say was much fewer and far between in recent months. Alcohol was another kind of crutch, and Izuku refused to lean on it too fully.

He made a conscious effort not to think about Kacchan because it still hurt. The hurt was so fresh and unwavering, it may as well have happened a month ago. He was coping, leaning into his friends and family and his art, but he couldn't deny the aching loneliness that hit him, always at night. Uraraka was dying to set him up with someone, but he always politely refused.

If he was being honest, he didn't want to move on from Kacchan. All the progress he made was building toward something, and Izuku couldn't deny that he wanted it to build a bridge that led straight to Kacchan. He wanted him and no one else, but he was afraid of fucking it all up again.

SEPTEMBER

Katsuki stood on the raised platform in his itchy tux next to an already teary-eyed Kirishima. Part of his best man duties was to hold all of Kirishima's spent tissues, no matter how disgusting and snotty they got.

"Get a fucking grip. You haven't even seen her yet," Katsuki said, pocketing yet another damp tissue.

"I know, man, but it's just the _atmosphere."_

Katsuki looked around at the bare trees, the twinkling lights and paper lanterns strewn about. The atmosphere _was, _admittedly, very romantic. There was a sense of finality in the air, a certainty that this was meant to happen for them. The guest-list was small, a smattering of UA alums and old teachers, their immediate family, and some of the pro heroes from their agency all sat in ornate fold out chairs on the lawn, waiting for Ashido to appear.

"Ashido will kill you if you look like shit for the pictures," he said, opting for practicality over emotional sympathizing. Sero and Kaminari stood beside him, a few steps away from the main platform, standing with the most quiet patience he'd ever seen in them. They'd already processed down the aisle with Hagakure and Jiro in tow, respectively. Katsuki walked with Ashido's older sister, a near-carbon copy of the bride.

When Ashido appeared at the end of the aisle, in a stunning dress that perfectly toed the line between a Western wedding gown and traditional Japanese ceremonial garb, there was a weight in the room that compelled everyone to be silent and still.

Katsuki found himself making eye contact with Mizuno. He reddened when their eyes met, both caught staring at each other. In Mizuno's eyes, Katsuki saw a softness that he wasn't entirely ready to name, so he refocused on Ashido. She was just walking the small step up the raised platform and handing her bouquet to her sister. Kirishima was making a valiant effort at controlling himself, but he could see that Ashido was just as teary. They looked at each other like they were the only people in the world, like the light beaming from their faces was so blinding they could only see each other. It made Katsuki ache, but not in a way that was painful or unpleasant. It was like he was sharing in their perfect moment. He was so happy for them, and to be part of their weird love story.

Still, when the ceremony ended, he felt heavy and tired from the outpouring of emotion. He walked back down the aisle feeling like he needed a stiff drink, and a long nap.

Weddings were weird. Katsuki hadn't attended many in his life. He'd been invited to plenty, but he'd always RSVP'd "with regrets," sent a gift, and went on working. Kaminari and Jiro never had a ceremony. They just got married on a whim one day, about three years ago, after Kaminari almost died on the job. They were so low key about their union that everyone _still_ called her Jiro. He would've attended their wedding if they asked him to. He would've gone to any of his friends' weddings—he probably wouldn't have had a choice because he would've been _in _them.

There was something simultaneously gravely serious and incredibly silly about attending a wedding. Everyone was light and easygoing, drinking with reckless abandon and dancing like no one was watching, but the event itself was one of the more serious events a person ever attended, save for a funeral.

That seriousness followed Katsuki around all night. He had a lot of dumb shit to do as the best man—more than he'd ever expected to have to do, actually—that he didn't spend a ton of time with Mizuno. But their eyes would catch now and again, the same way they did when he was standing at the altar, and something about it felt very, _very_ serious.

He was depositing Kirishima's crusty used tissues in the garbage when Mizuno finally caught up to him.

"Hey," he said, placing a casual hand on the small of Katsuki's back.

"Having a good time?"

Mizuno nodded, smiling. Katsuki let himself be guided away from the trash can and closer to the small, covered dancefloor.

"Wanna dance?"

"Not particularly," Katsuki admitted. He'd never danced to anything other than angry rock and rap, and only in the safety of his apartment.

"Not even for me?"

"Well, when you put it like that…." Katsuki trailed off, rolling his eyes and taking his hand. They stayed near the edge of the dance floor, away from the tangled knot of dancers in the center of the room. Neither of them knew what they were doing, but it was nice to just hold each other and sway to the music.

"I really like you," Mizuno said, dropping his head just so to whisper in Katsuki's ear.

"I like you, too." Katsuki smiled. "I thought that was a given, though."

"I know. I think weddings just turn me into a sap."

"Gross. Don't start crying on me now. I've already got Kirishima's tears and snot all over me."

Mizuno laughed quietly. Katsuki could feel it bubbling from his chest. He tipped Katsuki's chin up with a light finger.

"I've got nothing to cry about," he murmured, his lips already so close to Katsuki's that it hardly took any effort to close the space between them.

And like an idiot, Katsuki's mind strayed to Izuku, thinking how nice it could've been to share a kiss at his best friends' wedding if he wasn't so afraid of the world knowing about them. He metaphorically waved the thought away like annoying fly buzzing around his face. When the song ended, Mizuno pecked him on the cheek and went to get them some drinks. He didn't feel like standing around in the middle of everything, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the edge of the tent. He found himself next to Aizawa during a rare moment of looking put-together, hair combed off his face and everything. He'd noticed earlier, while he was looking out at the guests from the altar, that he'd come alone. It hit him then, that if he were still with Izuku, Katsuki probably would've been alone tonight as well. The realization burned in his gut.

"No Joke tonight?" Katsuki smirked.

Aizawa rolled his eyes at his antics. "Of course, he told you about that."

Katsuki had no doubt that he was talking about Izuku, and Katsuki wondered if they were still arguing with each other. He had no way of knowing anything about Izuku's life—and it wasn't because Katsuki wasn't looking for a way. He'd spent a great many moments of weakness trolling Izuku's Winstagram page, but all his posts were vague and impersonal. There was nothing to glean from them.

"How is he?" Katsuki asked, and immediately regretted it when Mizuno came back with their drinks. He placed it in his hand, and Aizawa's eyes flicked from Katsuki's eyes, to the drink, to Mizuno himself.

"Probably best not to discuss him," Aizawa said, before sauntering away. "Have a good night, Bakugo."

Just because Aizawa was right, didn't mean Katsuki wasn't wishing he'd given him something a bit more substantial. He felt like a complete and total ass when Mizuno asked what they were talking about, and felt even worse when he effortlessly said, "No one."


	15. Constellations

OCTOBER

Classes ended for the day and Izuku was puddling around his office, collecting papers to grade at home, when he heard muffled conversation in the hall.

"Do you think we should tell him?" Aizawa, sounding slightly concerned. Izuku furrowed his brows, doing his best to eavesdrop without exposing himself. Something about a wedding.

"He'll find out eventually. Not like he lives under a rock," Shinso said, a sigh blowing out of him.

"Tell me what?" Izuku asked, startling both Aizawa and Shinso. It made Izuku smile—he'd been working on his stealth lately, and he was clearly improving if he could sneak up on them.

"Uh," Shinso said deftly. He shared a look with Aizawa, and Izuku could swear he saw the subtlest shake of his head. Izuku frowned. Before he could say anything, a commotion flew down the hall, right past them, led by a particularly serious Recovery Girl.

"Everything alright?" Shinso asked, in his lazy, but still curious way.

"Big villain fight downtown. Ground Zero's down and I've got to patch the idiot up."

Izuku recoiled at the sound of Kacchan's hero name, as Recovery girl and a portion of UA's field medical staff whirled past them. Recovery Girl rarely left campus anymore—she was, put simply, _ancient, _and not exactly as mobile as she used to be, so this must've been gravely serious. Izuku felt cold dread pool in his gut, and it only increased when he noticed Shinso and Aizawa staring at him like he's delicate and moments away from breaking. He doesn't pause to reassure them—he wasn't sure he could with how shaken he felt. He left to change, so he wouldn't cause a scene when he made his way to Musutafu General Hospital.

—

Izuku snuck around the hospital in a baggy coat, a hat pulled low over his head. He felt like he was on a caper, not going to visit someone in the hospital. He stopped short when he finally found Kacchan's room. He wasn't alone. There was a man in his room, and they hastily broke apart when they noticed Izuku. Kacchan looked groggy, but the shock of seeing him was clear. He didn't speak. The other man did.

"Hi. Bakugo's only allowed one visitor at a time."

Izuku froze, feeling like he'd been caught on said caper with stolen goods in his hands. Izuku couldn't stop himself from inspecting this man thoroughly. Tall and freckled with dark curly hair. Kacchan found a replacement Izuku—a handsomer, taller, more well-adjusted replacement. Suddenly, Izuku had no doubt this was what Aizawa and Shinso were talking about in the hall. This is the only thing they'd ever consider keeping him in the dark about.

He finally looked at Kacchan, and it felt like the quiet year of progress he'd made, the careful stack of good deeds, healthy coping mechanisms, and positive reinforcement fell at his feet and crushed him.

"Wrong room," he choked out, and Kacchan remained silent. He wished he could say what emotion he saw in his eyes. "Sorry."

Izuku's heart broke all over again, but he had no one to blame but himself. He had Kacchan once, he said so himself. _Unconditionally._ And Izuku pushed him away for reasons that hardly made sense when he really tried to think about it. In the end, Izuku's progress didn't matter much. It didn't matter if he was ready for a relationship or not. Kacchan was already in one.

—

When Katsuki came home from the hospital two days later, pissed that a villain got the drop on him enough to leave him in the rubble with a collapsed lung and a shattered arm and collarbone, he had a frame leaning against his apartment door, wrapped in parchment paper and tied with twine. Mizuno picked it up for him, so he would "overexert" himself. It annoyed Katsuki, but that had more to do with his own issues than with Mizuno.

Katsuki ripped the bland paper off the square object to reveal a host of colors underneath. It was a painting. The Little Prince tending to his flower in a striking array of color and textured brushstrokes. There was a note attached to the back, but he doesn't want to read it with Mizuno standing beside him. He didn't even want to look at the painting because it was beautiful, and he knew what this gesture meant, and exactly who it was from before he even looked at the signature in the bottom right corner. It was dated back a year ago and signed by _Deku. _Katsuki knew it meant that he'd been thinking about him all this time too. Katsuki ran a thumb over the name, felt the texture of the canvas, a swirl of hope and pain rising within him in equal measure.

"Who's it from?"

"Deku," Katsuki said, and the thick lump in his throat was unmistakable. "It's a scene from my favorite book."

"You'll have to tell me about it some time. For now, let's get you to bed. Doctor's orders."

Katsuki nodded and pocketed the note. It felt like a lead weight.

_"I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved anyone. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you: 'I am busy with matters of consequence!' And that makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a man—he is a mushroom!"_

_I was a mushroom too. I'm sorry. I'm glad you're alright._

_Love, Deku_

Katsuki fell asleep with the note clutched to his chest. He could put it away tomorrow, he could bury it under a stack of papers in his office and forget about it. Tonight, he would allow himself a moment of weakness, just for a little while.

—

"Are you alright?" Aizawa asked, sitting on the edge of Izuku's desk. Aizawa wasn't one to ask questions like that. He'd been supportive and caring over the last year or so, but he'd so in a muted sort of way. Aizawa surveyed him with an almost critical gaze, trying to take his mental temperature.

"You knew? About Kacchan's… boyfriend?" The word got caught in his throat. He forced it out like verbal spit up.

"That wasn't an answer, kid. Don't make me ask again."

Izuku gave a breathy laugh. It was more shaky and neurotic than he'd like to admit.

"I'm… coping. I'm not going to go off the deep end, if that's what you're worried about."

Aizawa chuckled gruffly, and Izuku could tell how awkward he felt. Gratitude welled up inside him, and Izuku decided in that moment to do something crazy. He stood and forced Aizawa into a reluctant hug.

"I'll be okay. Thank you for watching out for me." Izuku's eyes burned, and he subtly wiped them on Aizawa's scarf. "I've never had a dad, but if I got to pick one, I'd pick someone like you."

Aizawa stiffened for all of five seconds before he patted Izuku on the back. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. When Izuku finally relinquished him, he smiled cheekily.

"I'll never make you talk about anything like this again."

"Thank god," Aizawa said, and he hastened away with more speed than his constant exhaustion usually allowed.

Izuku wasn't lying when he said he was coping. What was all that therapy for, if not for learning to cope? He wasn't happy by a long shot, but he had hope that someday he'd get there.

He had friends, family, a fulfilling job, and more hobbies than he really needed. Maybe it was time to let Kacchan go. Maybe leaving that painting on his doorstep was a horrible, selfish thing to do, but…

Maybe it was something he needed to do to say goodbye, to finally find peace and closure.

NOVEMBER

Izuku got an invitation to celebrate the grand opening of Shindo's agency, and Izuku couldn't help but see it as an olive branch. They've had little to no contact since their breakup, and the contact they'd had was unintentional and steeped in awkwardness. Izuku couldn't say no to something like this, but his stomach flipped and dipped and swayed every time he thought about it. He immediately asked Shinso to come with him for moral support.

Shinso's response is a curt, flat, "No."

"Why not?"

"I know you thought I was just trying to be funny when I told you I was your emotional fluffer, but I really don't think you realize how many dates you take me on."

Izuku spluttered, baffled. "I do not!"

Shinso crossed his arms, staring into Izuku's soul with those unimpressed, tired eyes. When the silence stretched on so long that Izuku started to squirm, he hesitantly asked, "Do I?"

"You make me go see all those poorly written romantic comedies with you."

"And?" It wasn't Izuku's fault that he happened to like rom-coms. Friends saw movies together. No big deal.

"And you brought me home to your mom for Christmas."

"She wanted to meet you!"

"Everyone at the cat cafe thinks you're my boyfriend," Shinso said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

"_You _brought me there in the first place!"

"We went on the gayest picnic ever last spring."

"What, exactly, makes a picnic gay?"

"Face it. I'm your emotional support boyfriend. And now I'm putting my foot down."

Izuku pouted. Was it really so bad to hang out with his friend? Picnics are fun, and the weather was beautiful that day. It would've been wasteful to spend it indoors.

"You're the worst," he grumbled, slightly offended.

"And, yet, here you are, asking me on another date." Shinso rolled his eyes, but he smirked. He was enjoying this.

"It's not a date! I'm just nervous about seeing Shindo."

"That's not my problem. Be a big boy."

"People really think we're dating?"

"Yeah, even my boyfriend."

Izuku frowned, suddenly cowed. Shinso and Monoma started dating shortly after Izuku and Shinso started hanging out—after Izuku's entire life imploded. Monoma wasn't shy about his dislike for Izuku, and suddenly it all made sense.

"Well, my apologies to Monoma. No wonder he hates me so much," Izuku said, coming to terms with the sudden realization that Shinso was, in fact, an emotional fluffer. Shinso snorted.

"Just don't plan anymore gay picnics and we'll all be fine."

—

Mizuno's fully dressed in a velvety navy suit, sitting on his couch. The rankings for the year were set to be unveiled that night, and they decided that they would show up together and make their relationship official—at least to the public eye. Katsuki was still looking a bit disheveled when Mizuno walked in. He had nothing but his slacks and an undershirt on because he couldn't find the button down he was looking for. He was further distracted from his mission when Mizuno's chest pressed into his back.

"You're really not helping me keep to my schedule."

"We've got time," Mizuno said, and his voice was a low rumble that he felt immediately in his groin. This… this was new. At least between the two of them.

Katsuki never knew there was so much nuance to kissing. With Izuku, the intention was always to go further, but Mizuno never kissed him in an effort to end up in bed. They were taking it so slow that they almost never hung out at each other's apartments. And now, Mizuno's intentions were very clear. And for the first time in so long, Katsuki found himself hungrily reciprocating.

There was a certain amount of terror involved that Katsuki never expected. He never expected it to feel like a first time all over again, but neither of them knew each other in this way, so they both ended up fumbling a bit. Mizuno's three piece suit was not helping. He'd pushed the jacket off his shoulders before they ever made it horizontal, and they were both trying to kiss each other while Mizuno loosened his tie and Katsuki struggled with the belt buckle. They were frantically pawing at each other, desperate not to wait another second.

And then Mizuno's phone rang.

"Ignore it," Katsuki growled, finally done with Mizuno's belt and working the button and clasp on his pants. Mizuno gave a curt nod, his teeth grazing Katsuki's neck and collarbone. He shivered, and briefly wondered why they both still had shirts on. If the way Mizuno clutched at Katsuki's thin tank top was any indication, he had a similar thought.

And his phone rang again, this time punctuated by a few text notifications. Mizuno broke away, grunting in frustration, and grabbed his phone. The look on his face told Katsuki he wasn't getting any today. It was like throwing a bucket of cold water on him, immediately sobering.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, but my mom's freaking out. I need to call her," he said, extricating himself from Katsuki, and dashing out of the room with the phone pressed to his ear.


	16. Planetary Alignment, Part I

NOVEMBER

Katsuki made it to the party late—much later than fashionably late. He was already behind schedule before Mizuno got the call from New York. They sat on his couch, rumpled and half undressed while his mom frantically relayed grim news. She was shrill and loud and Katsuki could hear every word without speakerphone. A building collapsed during a rescue mission, and his brother was buried in the rubble. They got him out quickly enough. He's alive, but he's critical, just about every bone in his body somehow compromised.

Mizuno sat like a stone, phone pressed to his ear with a horrified terror in his eyes. Katsuki had no way of knowing how to operate. He sat with him, patting his back awkwardly, thumb smoothing over his shirt while he tried to wade through his _how to be a boyfriend _panic. He waited while Mizuno took in his mother's information, only offering grunts of acknowledgement every now and then.

"I'll… I'll make tea," Katsuki said, after an overlong silence. He started to lift himself off the couch when Mizuno grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. His wet eyes fell on Katsuki, Adam's apple bobbing and cording over a lump in his pale throat.

"_Stay,"_ he hissed weakly, and it just about broke Katsuki's heart, that desperate plea. Katsuki could only nod and seat himself on the couch again. He threw an arm around Mizuno and he leaned into him, his large, muscular form curling against him as he worked to come to grips with what was happening.

Eventually, things turned to when and how Mizuno would get back to New York, and finally, Katsuki felt like he could be useful. He unearthed his laptop and found a hellaciously expensive flight to New York, leaving in three hours. He booked it on his own credit card in record time. Mizuno, to his credit, seemed to get a handle on his emotions after the plans were made.

Mizuno stopped short in the threshold of his apartment, as if he was forgetting something vitally important. He pulled Katsuki to him in a rough embrace, a biting kiss. They didn't usually kiss much; honestly, they weren't very physically affectionate at all aside from some hand holding and the events that took place only an hour ago. Most of the time, it was enough for Katsuki that Mizuno would put a reassuring hand on the small of his back or on the back of his neck. It was easy and reassuring in a way it never could've been with Izuku.

"I don't know when I'll be back." Mizuno's deep set eyes bored into Katsuki's soul. He wasn't even thinking of that—of the fact that he was leaving the country. Flying without a return ticket. Did that make him a bad boyfriend?

"Oh," he said dumbly. This… felt off. Like an end, an edge to fall over. A mile marker that said _turn back now._

"I don't know _if_ I'll be back," he amended, his voice a rough whisper.

"_Oh,"_ Katsuki said again, because he's an idiot and words and emotions have never been his thing. "You… you don't want to miss your flight."

It was the wrong thing to say, but he said it and he couldn't take it back. There was a blockage in Katsuki—something preventing him from really feeling this sudden loss. Maybe it would hit him tomorrow. Maybe the weight of this decision would feel like a physical blow to the chest, and he'll spend all day weeping on his couch. That was how it was with Izuku.

"I'll call you when I land. I'm sorry about missing the party. I know your rank will skyrocket. I'm proud of you."

"Don't worry about me. Call me if you need to talk," he said. That was good to say, right? Supportive? Why was this so difficult?

Mizuno gave him one last kiss, and then he was gone. Why didn't he feel worse?

—

He made it to the party with only fifteen minutes before the rankings dropped. He felt off-kilter and in no mood to deal with the press, but they loomed at the entrance, hunger in their eyes and prying questions on their lips. He took a deep breath, and barreled on.

There were parties all over the city, but this one was for the Top 20 only. Behind the wall of flashing cameras and recording equipment, he could see Kirishima's wild hair, and Ashido's skimpy gold dress. Kaminari was stuffing his face at one of the many trestle tables loaded down with food. If he could just get past this, everything would be fine.

Katsuki never liked dealing with the press, but he'd never been afraid of them quite like he was tonight. He was afraid of answering questions about Izuku—even questions about Mizuno. Ever since that fight with Shindo, since his life turned into a tawdry soap opera, the questions from the press have been barbarous and pointed. He knew now why Izuku hated his relationship with Shindo. He had a better understanding of why he wanted to keep their… _dalliances_ a secret. That didn't mean he agreed with Izuku's decisions. He would've gladly fielded questions if it meant he could be open about his feelings for him. That train of thought was dangerous, though. He wouldn't think about him tonight—no more than he had already, at least.

"Ground Zero! We were starting to worry if you'd be coming tonight! How are you?"

"Peachy. Ready to see the ranks," he said, a low grumble. He never worked hard to make himself heard. Let the extras worry about his garbled soundbytes. It's no skin off his nose.

"What are you expecting from the rankings? Experts believe you'll be making a big jump."

"I've never stayed stagnant from year to year. I expect this year will be more of the same." Katsuki had learned to temper his brash confidence. Always under promise and over deliver. It made him look better in the end.

"Do you think your jump up the ranks will have anything to do with the recent attention to your social life?"

Katsuki tried not to roll his eyes. Honestly. He'd thought they'd at least ask him a few more questions before they pounced on tabloid gossip. He braced himself for the questions about Izuku.

"I'd like to say it's because I'm a badass hero, but I'm sure it has something to do with recent gossip." He tried to be winning and nonchalant instead of put-upon. He'd never been good at pandering to the press.

"We were hoping to see you with a date this evening. Any comment?"

"Clearly, I'm flying solo tonight."

"Where's Tidal? You two have been seen spending lots of time together."

"He's in New York with his family."

"And Quirkless? Was there some sort of falling out? Many suspect he broke up with Quake for you."

"You know by now I'm not a gossip. We're friends. UA keeps him busy."

"Just friends?"

_Just nothing,_ he thought bitterly. He shouldn't still be thinking like this. How long would it take for that hurt to subside? When will the press let it go, and let him live? He decided to nip it in the bud quickly—throw them a bone, or whatever. He was tired of their bullshit.

"I think we all know I'm dating Tidal. Let's not mince words about it. I'd like to enjoy the party now."

His friends were good about not asking too many questions when he finally got past the threshold. They could sense something was off, but this wasn't the place to discuss it. Too many nosy fuckers around.

Katsuki was too proud to admit that he nearly teared up when he saw his name jump up to the number two spot, but it definitely happened. He was so close to his goal, he couldn't be bitter about not reaching it. He basked in the immediate congratulations from his friends. They all moved up one or two ranks as well, but he was clearly the winner of the night.

His eyes unwillingly found Izuku's name, hovering in the mid-thirties. His rank had gone down. He tried not to wonder how he was feeling about that. He tried not to feel sympathetic.

He tried not to genuinely wish that he was okay.

—

Izuku found his name easily. Thirty-four. Down two ranks from last year. The feelings of inadequacy never really go away, but he found himself accepting his lot in hero society. He would never be at the top, and that was okay. He wasn't flashy, and he worked in the shadows, and that wasn't by any means a bad thing. He remembered why he wanted to be a hero in the first place. It wasn't for fame or popularity, it wasn't to prove everyone wrong—it was to help people. He helped plenty of people as a thirty-something ranked pro. He was at peace.

That didn't mean the press was. They pounced the second it sunk in that he was one of the only pros there to drop rank.

"Quirkless, what do you have to say for yourself? Two ranks down. Do you think your work at UA is preventing you from doing your job? Or could it be your disastrous social life?"

_Wow. They're really not pulling any punches, are they?_

Izuku smiled tightly. He wasn't going to let these vultures make him feel bad.

"I'm happy dividing my time between teaching and hero work. As for my social life, well, I'm content. Thanks for your unwarranted input, though."

"So, you're content with the events of the last year and a half? Exposing your relationship with Quake—who's rank also suffered this year, presumably because of the fight you caused—and then leaving him for Ground Zero?"

_The fight _I _caused? Christ._

"Zero and I are friends. None of us have time to date."

"No one? My sources tell me that Ground Zero, himself, confirmed that he's in a relationship with Tidal, now ranked fifty-eight. Any comment?"

"I'm really happy for him. I wish them the best. I'd like to get back to the party now, thanks."

DECEMBER

Katsuki remembered all the times he thought his relationship with Mizuno was easy in a way it never would've been with Izuku. Of course, that was coming back to bite him. Things were always easy with Mizuno, so, when it came to an end, that was easygoing as well.

"I understand, Mizuno."

"I knew you would. That doesn't make the situation suck less."

"That's true. That doesn't mean we have to lose touch."

"I know. I just…" Mizuno started, his sigh crackled over the phone from thousands of miles away. It made Katsuki all too aware of the distance between them. "I really liked what we had going. I miss you already."

Katsuki pursed his lips, fighting a smile, as if anyone could see him.

"I miss you too."

"I'm not dumb enough to think either of us will have enough free time to visit."

"Being the number two hero has its drawbacks. So, does running your own agency."

"Congratulations, by the way. I wish I could've been there to see the unveiling." He sounded so genuine. It made Katsuki feel even worse about the smallest bit of _relief_ he was feeling. It was an odd feeling to come to grips with. He didn't want to end things with Mizuno, but he also wasn't all that upset about the impending loss. If anything, this was a startling moment of clarity for Katsuki. He was never going to love Mizuno because he'd never really healed. Maybe someday he'd be able to move on from Izuku—he sincerely hoped that was the case—but it hadn't happened yet. He should never have been in a new relationship, no matter how steady and comforting it may have been.

"Your family is more important than your massively successful, super famous boyfriend." Katsuki smiled. He was sure it colored his voice.

"Ex-boyfriend, as it were," he said, a humorless laugh bubbling across the phone lines. "Right. Well, duty calls. Let me know when you get more settled. Maybe we can video chat or something."

"I'd like that. Talk soon, Mizuno."

It was a nice send off, much nicer than _goodbye for the foreseeable future._

It shouldn't have been so easy to let Mizuno go, but it was. He wanted to feel worse. Mizuno was a good man and Katsuki could've seen them working out for a long time—even if he couldn't see himself in love. He liked him, but it wasn't until they ended things that he realized he didn't remotely love him. Maybe that could've come later, but now he'd never know. If Izuku had taught him anything, it was that love—when you lose it—was supposed to hurt.

He walked into his office and made a beeline for the spare closet, the one with boxes of all the things that reminded him of Izuku. He sat on the floor of the closet for some time, staring intently at the painting he left on his doorstep. This painting held more love in it than anything he ever felt for Mizuno. Looking at it didn't hurt as much as it should. Maybe… maybe he should call. Just to see how his ranking party went.

No. No, he couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't open the floodgates again.


	17. Planetary Alignment, Part II

DECEMBER

Izuku absently scrolled through his hero news app, bored out of his mind. His students went out on their work studies, and though he felt a bit like a proud parent watching his children leave the nest, he was also dreading the week without them. He never realized how loud his life was until it was quiet. He was so bored, so restless, that he almost missed Haneyama and Murasaki discussing his love life. _Almost._ He wasn't fond of the shipping charts, but it amused him that they cared so much about his happiness.

He sifted through more of the same news. Uraraka performed a badass villain capture, and so many articles are about her versatility with cheesy titles like _More Than A Rescue Hero _or feminist pieces about her low rank because she wasn't a man. All true, of course, but it wasn't anything Izuku needed to read about to reach that conclusion.

Then, Kacchan's face was staring back at him from an article titled _Trouble In Paradise? _Izuku knew his impulse control was abysmal, but even he was impressed by how quickly he pressed the button. Izuku balked at the paparazzi pictures of Kacchan and Tidal together. Stolen moments. Hands just barely touching, soft looks, a rare smile curling the corners of Kacchan's mouth. It felt wrong, seeing that smile out in the open. For a long time, Izuku was the only one with access to that look. He felt like he _owned_ that look, that curve of Kacchan's genuine smile, and he threw it away over his own insecurities.

The article was a bit of a timeline, really. It catalogued all the little clues that led Japan to believe Ground Zero and Tidal were in a relationship. It concluded with proof—a recount of an interview Kacchan gave the night the rankings dropped, an interview Izuku had watched on HeroTube at least thirty times, hating himself the more he watched it. Then, to Izuku's utter shock, the words on the page took a turn.

_Though Ground Zero opted to take the relationship public, Tidal has left Japan. Recent news from America, and sources within the Pink Riot agency have confirmed that Tidal has taken on the mantle of running his family agency back in New York. There's still no word on whether or not Ground Zero and Tidal are pursuing a long distance relationship, but the frequency with with the recently dubbed #2 pro has been working, points to a tentative _no.

Izuku all but fell off his desk chair, one thought pulsing through his head in time with his heartbeat.

_Kacchan is single._

_Kacchan is single._

_Kacchan is _fucking _single, oh my god._

And then, Izuku realized that fact should have no bearing on his life. He let Kacchan go. He pushed him away a long time ago, and he was finally coming to terms with the fact that they were never going to happen. It wasn't in the cards. Kacchan had moved on and Izuku should do the same.

Still, it didn't change the fact that Izuku wanted to reach out to Kacchan. He wanted to know he was okay. He wanted to tell him _I'm here._

But that was selfish. He hurt Kacchan, and he had no right to insert himself back into his life, especially at a potentially emotionally vulnerable time.

He just… had to let it go.

Right?

Wrong. Izuku knew damn well that he was wrong. He had enough experience fucking up the whole course of his life to know when he was about to do it again. He had to reach out. He had to _be there._ He just didn't know how to do it.

JANUARY

Izuku approached Shindo's new agency feeling unwelcome and out of place. Yes, he was invited. Yes, he RSVP'd, and Shindo sounded tentatively pleased that he was coming. Still, Izuku felt like he was walking into a war zone in his underwear—exposed and unprepared. He really wished he had someone by his side. Izuku took a deep breath, and pushed through the double doors.

The room was bathed in soft light. He admired the high ceilings of the reception area—or what was supposed to be the reception area. Tonight, it was filled with well-dressed people, milling around with glasses of expensive alcohol. Izuku couldn't help the slow smile spreading across his face. Estranged as they were, he was proud of Shindo. He was happy to be sharing in this moment with him, even if it was from across the room.

He _should_ go say hello, but his nerves kept him firmly planted where he stood, hiding behind a fake plant and pretending to eat from the nearby buffet table. That is, until Shindo sidled up beside him.

"Hey," he said, more casually than Izuku could ever manage. It'd been so long since he'd heard Shindo's easy, smooth voice that he jolted at the sound, and nearly choked on an elegant crab cake. Luckily, he choked it down before Shindo had to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

"Hi," he screeched—_literally_. It echoed in the room. Shindo smiled at him, and it was a little too soft, a little too knowing for the moment. It was like they were teenagers again—Izuku freaking out, and Shindo grounding him with nothing but a look. Izuku's heart pinched in his chest.

"Hi," he said again, quieter this time, a bit more sane.

"Mind if we talk in my office? I promise that isn't a flex—I just want to talk away from everyone for a minute."

Izuku laughed. It was a wonder Shindo could be so casual. He nodded, hoped for the best, and followed behind Shindo as they walked to the frosted glass door across the room. The second the door clicked shut, Shindo started in, as if he knew he'd have to go quickly before Izuku started panicking. He really knew him too well because Izuku had the same thought, and spoke up at the same time.

"So, how've you been?"

"I'm so sorry about everything. I've wanted to call you for a while. I just—"

"Panicked?" His smile was easygoing. It calmed some of Izuku's nerves. Izuku nodded.

"How have you been, Izuku? I've been thinking about you, you know. I just didn't know how to reach out."

"I'm… fucked up. I fucked up, Shin, but I'm working on it."

"Fucked up, huh? Is that a therapy term?" He asked. It was definitely a joke because his smile was still in place, and—unbelievably—Izuku actually laughed.

"You could say that."

"Well, I've never had a problem with that. You've always been my best friend. That's not gonna change. I want us to keep being friends."

Izuku felt small and unworthy of Shindo's kindness, his forgiveness. Izuku wasn't entirely the only one at fault for the collapse of their relationship, but it felt that way whenever he really thought about it. It was the same thing that happened with Kacchan. History repeating. Izuku didn't want to keep living the same tragedies.

"Even if I start dating someone?" He blurted out. Kacchan was never far from his mind lately. That article had given him hope. He was waiting for the right time to act on it.

"Yeah. Honestly, it was never going to work with us. I was trying so hard to make you feel something you didn't and… well, it backfired."

"It wasn't your fault," Izuku said instantly.

"I'd say if we're calculating who's fault it was it'd be a 70-30 situation."

Izuku huffed a small laugh that was quickly turning into a weepy sob. This was so much more than he ever could've hoped for.

"Which one am I?"

Izuku sniffled and wiped his eyes. Shindo gave a sad smile.

"I change my mind about that every day."

"Well, then maybe it should just be 50-50. It's only fair."

"I'm willing to go halfsies," he said, smiling gamely.

Izuku missed that easy banter they once had. He hadn't even realized it'd gone away when sex entered their relationship. Sex swallowed up everything he loved about his friendship with Shindo, and he hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

"I just really want to be friends again. I'm so sorry."

"We never stopped being friends. We just needed some space."

"You're the best."

"I know. That said, I can't guarantee I'll be nice to Bakugo. Civility might be all I can manage at the moment."

"What makes you think I was talking about Kacchan?"

"I could just feel it. You guys were like magnets. It made me crazy. Eventually, I realized that I just had to… bow out." He shrugged.

Izuku could tell that it still made him sad. Love, or the loss of it, never really stopped hurting. He thought that if he just never loved anyone, he wouldn't have to hurt. He was wrong, of course, and he'd hurt others in his attempt to guard himself.

"How've you been?" He asked around a rising lump in his throat, desperate for a subject change.

"Really good. I've got the new agency and I'm seeing someone," he said, smiling softly.

"Anyone I know?"

"Yeah," he said, looking away and blushing a bit. "Sakura."

"As in, my old partner?"

He nodded. Izuku could tell just by the blush on his cheeks that he really liked her. Shindo cleared his throat.

"You seem to be in a better place too."

Izuku nodded, and rubbed his eyes. He was crying, but it wasn't a bad cry. It was a relief. Relief that he'd been allowed to mend this, however difficult or awkward it might be. It gave him more hope. Maybe he could mend things with Kacchan too, someday.

"I'm doing well. I've been painting. It's helped me a lot—I've been thinking about opening a gallery, or maybe just renting studio space somewhere. I'm running out of wall space and I keep tripping over my supplies in the apartment," he said.

It wasn't something he was actively planning to do, just a fleeting thought really, but he wanted people to see his paintings. He wanted Kacchan to see them. In a way, it felt like everything he painted was for him or about him. He put so much of himself on those canvases, and he wanted people to know him when they saw them. He was tired of people never knowing him. He was tired of pushing people away.

"I'd love to see your paintings. Let me know if you go through with it."

"I've got some things I need to do first."

Shindo gave him a knowing look.

"Don't wait too long."

FEBRUARY

Izuku was painting again, pushing paint around the canvas haphazardly. He wasn't sure what he was making, he just… needed to do something. The last month or so left him feeling on edge, impatient. Izuku was a tightly wound spring, and he wasn't sure what he needed.

Hours passed and the formless colors and brush strokes were starting to make sense to him. He _was_ painting something. Someone. Izuku knew what he wanted. He wanted Kacchan. He's always wanted Kacchan, and he had waited too damn long to do something about it. He stares at the half-finished painting—the explosions of red eyes and white blond hair. Even when he was avoiding the issue, Kacchan was always there.

He couldn't wait anymore. Tidal was out of the picture—officially—and Izuku made excuse after excuse to delay talking to Kacchan. He wanted to give him space, time to grieve his abruptly ended relationship, but really, that was just his fear speaking. He didn't want Kacchan to reject him, but thinking about being rejected on a loop was starting to be worse than actually being rejected. He was waiting for a perfect moment, but he was starting to realize that perfect moments didn't happen on their own. They required action and purpose and being with the person that gave it the potential to be perfect in the first place.

Izuku never imagined perfect moments happening on the sidewalk in paint-splattered jeans in the middle of February, but it was all he was going to get. He made a mad dash to Kacchan's apartment, praying he was there. Kacchan was on his way out when he finally got to the building. He'd just walked out of the lobby doors, looking at his phone, an orange coat wrapped around him. He startled when he noticed Izuku, breathless and messy, and not dressed nearly warm enough for the weather.

"Deku?"

Izuku had to fight a smile. Ever since he'd started signing his paintings as Deku, the name felt less like a condemnation and more like a secret, special thing. An alter-ego. It meant he got his note. Maybe he kept the painting, too.

"Are you going somewhere?" Izuku asked, panting.

"Kirishima's," he muttered, pocketing his phone. He looked terrified and wild, and Izuku remembered how Shinso described his expression at Iida's party. It made sense now, and even though it wasn't the way Izuku himself would describe love, he knew it was still there when he looked in Kacchan's eyes. Whenever he imagined this moment in his head, Izuku thought he might clam up. He thought he wouldn't know what to say, but that moment never came. The words flooded out of him without hesitation.

"I love you. I love you so much, and you were right about everything, and I'm so, so sorry."

Kacchan stared for some time, his expression changing every few seconds with minuscule tics only Izuku would recognize. A slightly creased brow, a minute pout on his thin lips.

"What are the rules?" Kacchan asked, quiet and reserved and closed off like he'd never seen him before. He was frozen where he stood, waiting for Izuku's reply.

Izuku let himself cry. Over the years, he'd gotten much better at suppressing his tears, but he didn't want to now. He was feeling too much. Izuku moved to cup Kacchan's cheeks. They were warm under his palms despite the wintry chill in the air, and Izuku felt a thrill shoot up his spine when he didn't immediately pull away.

"No rules this time, Katsuki. I mean it."

Kacchan said nothing, but he gingerly took hold of Izuku's hands, a strong grip around his wrists.

"I want to establish some rules. I want to know what I'm getting into," he murmured, leaning toward Izuku just so. Izuku was confused, but he figured he deserved this. He had a lot of trust to rebuild. Izuku would do anything.

"Like what?"

"All or nothing, Izuku. I wanna hear you say it," he said, his voice dark and thick with emotion. His thumb rubbed circles on Izuku's hands, still pressed to Kacchan's face, and he turned his head slightly to pressed a soft, hopeful kiss into his palm.

"All. Full stop. There's no other option for me."

Izuku hardly finished his sentence before Katsuki's lips crushed his. Their teeth clicked together and Katsuki's arms folded him in a crushing embrace and it should've been uncomfortable and suffocating, but it felt like the first full breath he'd had in years. He was cresting above stormy waters after a shipwreck. He was watching every planet in the sky align. He was holding fate in his hands and bending it to his will. It hardly mattered to either of them that they were shamelessly making out in broad daylight, in front of god and everyone else, on the front steps of his apartment building.

Izuku pulled away, just enough to ask a question.

"Did you keep my painting?"

Katsuki roughly pulled him back to him in another searing kiss, a warm hand on the back of his neck. He nodded, his mouth too occupied for verbal responses at the moment. When he spoke again, it was directly into Izuku's open mouth.

"Do you have more?"

"Tons," he answered, breathless and flushed.

"I want all of them," he growled, and Izuku had to smile. Was this another rule?

"Everything is yours. It always was."

"Can I hold your hand in public?" Kacchan murmured against Izuku's neck.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured into his mussed up hair, giggling when Kacchan's breath tickled him. Kacchan chuckled into the shell of his ear and Izuku's stomach dipped.

"Can I post about you on Winstagram?" Izuku asked, and it was little more than a breath but Kacchan was close enough to hear it. He wanted him this close for the rest of their existence.

"Once a week _minimum,"_ Kacchan growled and bit his salt-stained cheek. Izuku laughed, peppering kisses against his whole face. It was then that he realized Kacchan was crying too. They were both so stupid to have waited so long for this.

"Can I tell everyone you're my boyfriend?"

"Only if I can tell everyone how much I love you."

"Ditto, nerd. I love you so fucking much."

And if there were a thousand pictures of them on Winstagram within the hour, they were too busy, and far too happy to give a fuck.

—

Izuku was laying on top of him, still intimately connected with him, when he started to cry again. It wasn't a bad cry, though, Katsuki could see that much in his bright eyes. It was the necessary release of something too big for one person to carry.

"You alright?" Katsuki asked, thumbing away a stray tear on his cheek. Izuku smiled at him, a bit bashful.

"It just feels good to let this out. I was so scared of showing you how much I love you—I was afraid of how much I already loved you in such a short time."

"I know. I was afraid too."

Katsuki had never been a soft, open person, but Izuku made honesty and sensitivity worth it. He knew he could tell him anything—he _would _tell him anything.

"Of what?"

"Getting angry. I realized I wasn't being myself around you because I was scared of showing too much of my temper or raising my voice. I didn't want you to be afraid of me again."

"You could never scare me," he said, cupping Katsuki's face like he was something precious, green eyes blazing. Then, he gave a wicked grin. "Besides, I think it's been made abundantly clear that I can take you in a fight."

Izuku laughed, and Katsuki flipped him over, so he was caging him in. He kissed his neck and growled while Izuku squirmed, giggling. He missed this, the easy conversation, the quippy banter honed by years of knowing each other.

"We're having a rematch, nerd, and when I beat you, I never want to hear about that shitty spar again."

"I love you, Kacchan," he said, rather abruptly. Katsuki had to smile. He nosed along Izuku's strong jaw, reveling in being allowed to love him again.

"Say it again."

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too, Izuku."

"You can call me Deku. It doesn't hurt anymore… I've made peace with Deku," he whispered, fingers combing through Katsuki's hair. His heart was already full to bursting, and this sent him over the edge.

"My Deku," he whispered into Izuku's half-open mouth. They were so close that it was easy to kiss him again, to let his love pour out of him and into Izuku.

"I'm so sorry, Kacchan. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Katsuki shook his head. "Don't apologize. We're gonna do it right this time. We'll talk about everything. We have plenty of time."

If there was one thing Katsuki knew for certain, it was that these feelings wouldn't vanish or diminish with time and space. He would feel like this for the rest of his life. This was only the beginning.

JULY

Life with Izuku was moving fast. They'd both agreed that they'd waited far too long, and they were done wasting time. As soon as their leases were up on their respective apartments, they—meaning mostly Katsuki because of his superior salary—bought a three floor townhouse in the heart of downtown. It was equally close to UA and Katsuki's brand new agency. The first floor is all studio space. Katsuki had been encouraging Izuku to go through with opening a gallery for months, but he kept waffling on it.

In their short time together, as in, their short time actually dating, Katsuki had learned that sometimes Izuku needed far more than encouragement. Sometimes, he needed a swift kick in the ass to be sent over a metaphorical cliff. So when Katsuki found a vacant building three blocks from their house, he jumped at it.

That was a month ago. He had spent all his free time lately sprucing the place up, hanging some of his older pieces, getting everything in working order. Katsuki doesn't do anything by half-measures, so Izuku's first birthday spent with Katsuki would begin and end with something big. Namely, a new gallery, and—if he could nut up and do it—a ring.

Katsuki convinced him that they were just going to do a low key dinner and then head home for a night in. As far as Katsuki could tell, he suspected nothing. That is, until they got to their front door, and Katsuki rugged on Izuku's hand to keep him walking. He raised a brow in question, but Katsuki is determined to keep the secret until the last possible second.

"Let's go for a walk. It's a nice night," he said, smirking.

Izuku gave him a wry smile, but let himself be pulled in the direction of his gift. When Katsuki unlocked the seemingly abandoned building with his own key, Izuku finally spoke up.

"Are you going to murder me? I should've known you were just biding your time," Izuku, the little shit, joked.

"Shut up, nerd. I'm not sick of you, yet. Come on."

He pulled him into the dark, open room with little protest from his boyfriend. When the lights went up, the white walls of the room were bathed in a warm glow, his paintings the focal point. Their parents and all their friends huddled in the middle of the space and cheered.

"Surprise!"

—

Izuku was shocked that Katsuki could keep a secret like this from him, but for a relatively successful hero, Katsuki knew Deku to be oblivious most of the time. The nerd seemed to be floating on a cloud, high on the surprise and all the love for him in the room. He watched idly as the love of his life flitted around the room, chatting up Kirishima and Ashido, Iida and Sero, his parents, and everyone else in between.

"Are you gonna do it tonight?"

Auntie Inko sidled up to Katsuki and tucked her arm into his, leaning affectionately on him. Katsuki nodded and patted her hand.

"Soon," he said. She was the only one who knew what was coming. Katsuki felt like the little velvet box was burning a hole in his pocket. He wasn't sure if he should save that surprise for later, when they were alone, or if he'd rather share it with their friends and family.

All he knew for certain was that Izuku wouldn't say no. After all that had happened between them, all the things they put each other through, that thought—that absolute clarity about what they were to each other and where they stood—was all that mattered.

—

**this is the end! i have a short epilogue prepared that ill be posting here in the next few days. thank you all for your kind reviews. i read eveey single one abut a thousand times.**

**xo katya**


	18. Epilogue - The Sun

"Kacchan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know where All Might is?"

"Sort of. Why?"

"I've been thinking a lot about him. I wrote him a letter in therapy. I've written him a couple letters, actually, but I think I have one I actually want to send now."

For the first time since he started cooking, he looked over his shoulder at Izuku. He'd been doing so well over the last year, he was almost the old Izuku. The Izuku that was actually happy, not just playing at it. The one who wasn't being eaten away by rage and self-hatred and drinking to forget it. Katsuki liked to think he was part of the reason why. He liked to think that as much pain as he'd caused him in the past, he'd also helped heal him again. When Katsuki didn't answer right away, he continued.

"He may not appreciate hearing from me, but I kinda need the closure. Is that selfish? Of course it's selfish, but I just—like, you and I talked, and I forgave you, and look how happy I am now. I just think it's time to give up this grudge."

"I think he'd love to hear from you."

"Really?"

Katsuki nodded, remembering the look in All Might's eyes when Katsuki asked him to sign that poster over a decade ago.

"Can I read it?"

Izuku looked a little sheepish, but he nodded and hopped off the barstool to retrieve the letter. Katsuki busied himself with plating their food.

He appeared as Katsuki was setting their food on the table, nearly barreling into him as his socked feet slid across the wood floor of their home. Katsuki steadied him, but wasn't quite ready to let him go. He pulled him to his side, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and kissing his hair.

Izuku tilted his head back to catch Katsuki's lips in another kiss, and pressed the folded sheet of paper to his chest. He'd read it after dinner.

"I'll make sure he gets it."

—

They settled on the couch, the envelope in Katsuki's hand, and Izuku draped across his lap, so they could read it together. Izuku looked nervous, so he pressed a kiss to his temple before diving in.

_All Might,_

_My name is Midoriya Izuku. We met a long time ago in Musutafu. You saved me from a sludge villain, and I repaid you by accosting you. Sorry about that, by the way. You may not remember what happened that day, but I asked you if I could be a hero like you, even though I was Quirkless._

_I'm not proud to admit that I completely lost my mind when you told me no. Now, I can see that you had my best interests in mind. I can appreciate that now that I have the insight I have. But back then, I was so angry. I went home and tore down my All Might posters (I had a lot of them) and got rid of everything that had to do with you. I promised myself I would prove everyone wrong, especially you, and another very important person in my life._

_That rage got me to where I am today, but I plateaued after a while. I built such a shell around myself that I never enjoyed what I was doing. I became a hero, and it felt like a job I didn't want once I had it. I was going through the motions. I was upset about the natural limitations I faced, the disadvantages I had to fight tooth and nail to overcome. I was so angry I sucked the life out of my dream job. It wasn't until very recently that I came to terms with this anger, and I've decided to let it go. In reconnecting with that important person, he's helped me embrace the good in my life._

_This is my long, roundabout way of saying I forgive you. The truth is I wouldn't have half the things I have today if I hadn't met you and you hadn't lit that fire in me. Thank you._

_Your fan,_

_Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless_

_PS- Thank you for that poster you signed for me._

"You're not gonna tell him you don't have the poster anymore?"

"You don't have it?" Izuku had the audacity to pout at him. Katsuki bit his lower lip in retaliation, grinning evilly when Izuku complained.

"I blew it up as soon as you disappeared around the corner from my house."

"I guess I should've expected that."

"I've got a pretty decent collection at my parents' house still. I'm willing to share with you," he said, kissing Izuku's shoulder. Izuku melted further into his lap, hands roaming the planes of his chest.

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Kacchan. Take off your pants."

Katsuki snorted, but allowed Izuku to pull on the drawstring of his sweats anyway.

"So much for All Might being a phase."

Izuku shut him up with a kiss—the only way he'd ever allow himself to be silenced.

—

Nearly a month passed before a response turned up. Izuku was adamant in saying he wasn't expecting a reply, that expecting one would be asking too much, and he'd already gotten all the closure he needed. Katsuki knew it was a crock of shit, but he let him think he was being fooled. The letter never got to Katsuki. This time it surfaced in the form of Aizawa tossing it onto Izuku's desk at work.

Izuku was shaking—either with excitement or dread, Katsuki wasn't totally sure—when he got home and the letter remained sealed.

"You gonna open it?"

"Of course! I just—"

"Don't think too hard. Just do it," Katsuki said, using his soft voice, the voice he used when his tiny husband was teetering over an edge.

"Later," Izuku said, his eyes never leaving the envelope. Katsuki nodded. Izuku's hands found their way under his shirt, palming at his sweat slick back. Katsuki groaned feeling all the dirt and grime from work.

"Hmm?" Izuku asked, invading his space and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his neck.

"Let me shower first," Katsuki said, but made no move to extricate himself from Izuku's ministrations.

"Why? I like it." He swiped the flat of his tongue along Katsuki's neck, no doubt tasting the salt and smoke of a hard day's work.

"You're so gross. Damn Deku," Katsuki said, trying not to smile at the attention.

"Fine. Let's get you cleaned up. I'm coming with."

"Only if you let me brush your goddamn hair." Katsuki would never admit it, but he loved detangling his ragamuffin husband's curls. He also loved running his fingers through his hair and not getting them stuck in the knots. Izuku rolled his eyes and pushed him toward the bathroom.

Soapy touching and rubbing and kissing were among the things Katsuki cherished most in this new, blissfully domestic life with Izuku. The feeling of smooth, wet skin gliding across his was such a familiar sensation and yet it somehow felt new every time. They stayed there until the water turned icy and they were forced out. Izuku yelped as Katsuki held him under the chilled water and washed the conditioner from his beautiful curls, stealing kisses every time he opened his mouth to complain.

Later, they fell into bed, both spent from a long day and relaxed by the steamy shower. Izuku was wrapped in an enormous terry cloth robe and Katsuki couldn't be bothered to put anything on other than his towel. Izuku waded through the mass of sheets and pillows to lay himself in Katsuki's arms, his head against his bare chest. Katsuki welcomed him. He never knew that full feeling he used to catch onto so fleetingly could be his natural setting, but there he was. It hadn't gone away once since he came to his apartment and told him he loved him.

He didn't know Izuku held the letter until he heard the seal rip. Katsuki's heart clenched. In the two years they'd been together for real, his heart was always finding new things to stutter at. Something as simple as Izuku willing to share the contents of the letter with him spoke to the deep, unwavering trust they'd built together. Katsuki felt the need to squeeze his partner, so he did. Izuku laughed, the kind of laugh that bubbles out of a person when smiling wasn't enough to convey their contentment.

"Ready?"

"Always." He kissed his wet ringlet curls. Izuku settled in, ready to read to Katsuki.

_Midoriya Izuku,_

"That's me! This is surreal," Izuku squealed. Katsuki rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Deku. Keep reading." Katsuki chuckled.

_I was very happy to receive a letter from you. It may surprise you to know I've spent a great deal of time thinking of you these last fifteen or so years since we met. I remember that day very well, and like you, it's haunted me every day since._

_I've followed your career with a zeal I've only felt for my own hero work. I feel you've more than proved me wrong. I knew it that day, when you rushed into danger to save your friend when no other hero acted. No matter my intentions that day, I snubbed you and disregarded your dreams. Any lesser man would've taken my harsh words at face value. I am so glad you didn't._

_Your forgiveness means the world to me, and to know that you are happy and healthy in your life is a blessing. Take it from a retired, old pro, you should cherish every second you have, and share it with those you love. I will continue to follow your career, both within the halls of UA and out in the field. I know you'll change the world for the better with every step you take. Thank you for sharing a little bit of your success with me. If you wouldn't mind, I've attached a poster (Aizawa is probably holding onto it for me) and I'd be honored if you'd sign it. Further correspondence is unnecessary, but it would warm an old man's heart to stay in touch._

_You're a bright light in the hero community and Japan would be a lesser place without you._

_Your fan,_

_Yagi Toshinori_

_PS- Tell Bakugo not to be a stranger. I'm happy for both of you._

"A fan? He said he's a fan!" He squeaked, crinkling the letter in his excitement. He immediately smoothed out the wrinkles, and Katsuki knew it would become a cherished artifact for him. Katsuki took the letter and placed it gently on the nightstand, so as not to desecrate it further. He rolled over, ready to have his way with the love of his life.

"I'm your biggest fan," he growled, burrowing into the collar of Izuku's gigantic robe to kiss his neck.

"Kacchan, you can't be jealous of All Might."

"I'm not jealous of shit. Take this stupid robe off. I hate it," he said, his hands searching for Izuku's skin.

"You bought me this robe," Izuku said, offended, as if he'd insulted his first born child and not a shitty piece of clothing. His argument stopped short when Katsuki's hands found the soft skin of his hips, his thighs.

"Well, I wouldn't have if I'd have known it'd be impossible to get you to take it off," he grumbled, pulling on the knot of fabric that kept the robe in place. When it was gone, and Izuku was fully unobstructed, they crashed into each other, warm and light and so _right_ neither of them could hold out for too long.

Katsuki thought once that Izuku was like a comet, a fleeting, unimportant piece of space rocketing across the sky, aimless in its path. He never knew he could be so wrong. He knew what Izuku was the first time he lay tangled up in him, basking in his warmth. Izuku was the sun, bright and constant, with an undeniable, almost dangerous pull. Katsuki was more than happy to orbit around him for the rest of his life, grateful every time he got too close, and they set each other alight.


End file.
